Children of war
by Rei Masako
Summary: They become violent because they need to. They come running at death because we have made death their companion. What has been learned cannot be unlearned easily. So, children of war continue to make war. You can’t let go of the sword, can you?
1. Summer Dream

Disclaimer: I don't own any rurouken characters.

Notes: All names are written in the japanese way (last name - first name). This fic ignores the events of the Jinchuu arc. But there will be spoiler on the Kenshin/Tomoe story (OAV 1 for the anime folk) in later chapters.

Thanks a lot to my beta, Siriusfan13, for her help and encouragements!

I hope you will enjoy this fic :-)

* * *

**Summer Dream**

"Even!"

"Odd!"

Staring fixedly at the little bowl, Sano was sweating. The gambler grinned with all his yellow teeth, for the sake of suspense - but not too long, some of his clients looked like too much frustration could result in a murder attempt. The dice were revealed.

"Five, six! Odd!"

Sano lowered his head. Obviously, it had to be, since he had placed his bet on even. This was his longest unlucky streak for years. He had asked Kenshin to come with him again, but the missy had heard him and the ferocious look on her face, along with the way she was playing with her bokken and gritting her teeth, had made her opinion on the question very clear. Predictably, his friend had smiled sheepishly and excused himself. So, Sano was broke. Definitely, completely, overwhelmingly broke.

"Man! I need the money!"

His companions laughed.

"You always need money, Sano!"

"Don't look so depressed!" Yoshie said, slapping him on the back. "Let's go to some other place and drink a cup of sake. I invite you."

"With the money you just won from me, you traitor!"

But he wouldn't complain so loud that his buddy would change his mind. They all left the gambling house for the empty streets of Tokyo. They landed, as usual, at the Yokohama, which was cheap and opened late. They took over a big table and soon enough, Sano wasn't thinking about his losses anymore. They had already drunk a bit at the gambling house, and it didn't take long before the discussion became the kind of loud, happy, slightly incoherent talk you make when the alcohol level gets a bit high.

They were arguing over whether Tatsu's currentgirlfriend really was cuter than the former one, or something alike, when Sano started to trail off the discussion. He sighed, looking off into the distance, thinking about how likely it was that Kaoru would beat him up if he came to the dojo for a free meal again. Huh. Well, she didn't hit hard enough to keep him away from a bowl of rice, anyway. And Kenshin was sure to cook enough for him.

He frowned as his eyes focused on the scene a few meters from him. A man was standing in front of a table where a woman was drinking alone. He was tall and quite drunk, the kind of loud and annoying guy laughing a lot about things that weren't really funny. The woman wasn't smiling. The drunk's buddies, at a nearby table, were shouting encouragements. Obviously, he had decided who would be in his bed tonight. Only the object of his attention didn't seem to agree with his plans.

It was rareenough to see a woman in such a place. They would usually stick to normal tea houses and daylight hours, especially if alone. That one looked like a traveler. A traveler with not much money; her kimono was about as tired as Sano's own jacket, and that was saying something. Maybe she didn't have enough for an inn, and was drinking here just to stay in a warm place.

The drunk, who was obviously blind to his complete lack of sex-appeal, sat down at her table with more suggestive stares and enthusiastic talk. The ex-fighter for hire couldn't hear what he was saying, but he could imagine. Yoshie bent to Sano.

"What do you think…" he said, pointing at the two. "Shouldn't we help her?"

"Nope," Sano replied with a yawn.

Yoshie stared at him.

"Why not?"

"'Cause she ain't gonna need it."

His friend, astonished, looked back at the woman. She was rather small, and too thin to look really beautiful. The man who was after her was no giant, but he had no need to be to dominate her completely.

"Sano…"

The street fighter had a faint smile while emptying his cup of sake. Frail she might be, but he had noticed the gleam of daggers up her sleeves, and if he wasn't mistaken, this long thing hidden under a cover next to her package was a katana. If a woman walking around with so many forbidden sharp weapons couldn't get rid of an idiot on her own, then he was the emperor of Japan.

"I bet you twenty yen he'll be picking up his teeth anytime soon."

"You're much more drunk than I thought. Do you even _have_ twenty yen?"

Sano just grinned. Yoshie sighed.

"All right…"

"I just won twenty yen!" Sano shouted. "Let's have some more sake, that's on me."

"Hey, wait…"

Yoshie was interrupted by a loud crash and turned around. The man was now head on the table. The young woman was standing behind him, painfully twisting his arm with her right hand while the left one was holding one of her short daggers against his throat. The drinking house had fallen into deep silence.

A cheerful voice interrupted it.

"Now, young man, tell me. Do you want to die?"

The drunk, who was putting all his effort in keeping his head high so as not to rest his throat against the blade, barely managed to utter:

"No, miss."

"Then _what_ is it that you want?"

"No harm, miss," he pleaded. "Ju… Just a bit of fun…"

She appeared to consider this.

"Fun? Really? Then let's have some fun together, what about it?"

She looked like she was waiting for him to express his delight at having his shoulder nearly dislocated while being an inch away from having his throat cut. Behind her back, the drunk's friends where standing up, some of them picking up empty jugs to have something to hit with. Yoshie stood up as well, worried. The woman grinned even more.

"Look! It seems your friends want to play, too!" She said to her poor victim.

There was a loud crash as she sent him flying into his angry buddies. Sano stretched with another yawn, then made his hands creak.

"Do you think she'll leave me some?" He asked his friend.

But by then Yoshie had already retreated behind a table, while the whole place was breaking into a confused exchange of fists and flying cups.

* * *

Of course, Sano couldn't possibly go all out, not when most of his opponents could hardly fight properly and had too much alcohol in blood to walk straight anyway. Still, it was some fun. Idiots who needed to learn manners were always welcome with him. He was busy knocking two of them against each other, when something metallic suddenly gleamed at the edge of his vision.

His fist hit the man so brutally that he crashed in the wall on the other side of the room. But it turned out Sano had still held back too much with that one. He wasn't unconscious yet and his hand was still holding the gun. Swearing, his face full of blood, he pointed it at the fighter.

A thrown dagger pinned his arm to the wall before he could fire, and he lost the weapon with a scream. Sano turned around. The woman who had started the fight was walking towards him. Any trace of cheerfulness had gone from her face. She looked utterly furious.

She took her dagger back without any concern for the new painful scream of her opponent, then threw him back on his feet.

"Disappear from my sight," she hissed.

She turned to Sano.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault, I always…"

She looked at the devastated bar and the unconscious bodies lying around. Obviously, all the customers who were still able to walk had decided to run away.

"Crap," she muttered. "I did it again."

A shelve full of jugs crashed loudly on the ground. She had a sigh of regret, maybe for the wasted sake.

"What do you mean, again?" asked Sano, amused. "Does it always end like this when you take a drink?"

"Is there a back door here?" she interrupted. "There must be one."

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

But he didn't wait for her answer as he heard policemen's whistles in the distance. He swore. She picked up her things and they started to run. The cops weren't going to ask who had started the fight and why. If they got caught, they would spend the night in a cell and possibly would have to pay for the destroyed furniture, which wasn't likely to make Sano's pockets any less empty. They escaped through the back door, but one of the guys they had beaten up was waiting there for them and shouted, attracting the patrol. Sano sent him to sleep with a solid punch and lead the way through the narrow streets, speeding up. He decided to head south to lose them in the small alleys, but she stopped him and forced him back in the shadow of a porch.

"They're already there," she whispered. "And they're coming from the other side too."

"Then it leaves the roofs."

They helped each other up the wall and disappeared in the night, as silently as possible.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were both sitting on the roof of a storehouse. The policemen had given up and the night had calmed down.

"What a troublesome woman you are," Sano laughed. "I haven't been in such a mess since I gave up being a fighter for hire. And I haven't even done anything this time. Who are you anyway?"

"Just a traveler."

He laughed even louder.

"Are you kidding me? You carry three swords, you fight like an expert and you can feel ki at a distance I've only ever seen from first class swordsmen. If you're just a traveler, then I'm a school kid."

She had a faint smile and lay back on the roof.

"You think too much of me. Beating up some clumsy idiots is hardly a performance. And it's not like I have achieved anything else in my life. Going here and there, doing small jobs, getting drunk, picking fights. End of the story."

Sano lay down at her side.

"Same here. Well, I kinda gave up beating up people. At least most of the time. Sanosuke's the name. Sagara Sanosuke."

"Sannan Yoko."

* * *

She poured the last drops of sake in her cup.

"You didn't leave me much,"she complained.

"That's because you're drunk already."

"So are you."

"Absolutely not true."

"Prove it."

Some more sake was enthusiastically ordered in order to establish it. They were both already knocked down by all the alcohol, but Sano didn't feel like going home yet.

"You're really something", she said. "I've never met anyone like you before."

She had a strange, dreamy gaze, as if watching straight through him. For some reason, Sano reddened a bit.

"What do you mean?"

"You have such a ki. A strong, calm force. And so completely, foolishly unguarded. It's like you're just raw strength standing there without a care in the world. If I ever fight you, you've got to remind menot to go bare handed."

He laughed nervously, filling their cups once more.

"I've never met a woman like you before, neither."

"In any case," she said thoughtfully, "you don't seem to be as evil as you claim to be."

"Huh? Oh, you mean the sign on my back? Ah, well…"

And because he didn't really know her, because the sake was good and the night warm, he felt like telling her. He talked about Sagara Souzo of the Sekihoutai, about the hopes they carried for the small people, about the wandering nights with huge dreams. And he told about the betrayal of the imperialists. The "evil" sign and the exposed heads. The humiliation and pain. The burning rage.

Hardly noticing, he said more than he had actually planed to.

And there was something in her gaze, as she listened to him, something like deep understanding. For some reason, he was comfortable explaining all that. She felt… close.

"What about you?" He concluded.

"Me?"

And although her tone was light, there was self-derision here.

"You. Why are you traveling around picking fights?"

She shrugged. The smile on her lips held more bitterness than joy.

"Can't seem to help it."

"You angry at something, too?"

For a moment, she just looked at her sake, as if trying to decide whether drinking any more would help at this point.

"Yes," she whispered.

And he knew it instantly, at the way she avoided his gaze. He knew that this anger was keeping her from breathing freely, that it made her want to scream, that she was hitting people just to forget it, exactly as he had done himself for years before meeting Kenshin. This woman who looked like a kid and fought like a man was just like he used to be.

"My father and my brother," she explained in a breath. "They were killed in front of me."

Her gaze, lost in the distance, remembered an instant an unstoppable sword striking swiftly, faster than a heartbeat.

"But it's no use", Sano said with a nostalgic look at the table. "'Cause they're dead already. The time to save them is over."

* * *

How much they said, how much sake there was and how they made it home, neither of them could completely remember it. Sano could not recall wondering if she would go home with him. By the time they left the bar, it was obvious that she would. And when he woke up and found her in his arms, it was like coming from an odd dream and finding out that it was all true.

It was strange to watch her sleep. There was a deep quietness in her that hadn't been there the other night. She moved, slowly waking up, and the distant feeling of peace was soon over. Opening her eyes, she tried to sit in the futon, but gave up.

"How much did I drink?" she moaned.

"Too much."

And so did I, he thought while looking around for that medicine against hangover that vixen had once given to him. That had been _way _too much sake. Who had paid for it anyway? He had probably put it all on Yoshie's tab again. He finally found the small powder bag in a corner under some old clothes.

"Give me the water over there, will you?"

She wordlessly handed the bucket over and waited as he prepared the drink. She gratefully took the cup he gave her and took a sip.

"Never gonna drink again", Sano groaned.

"I usually say that in the morning too", she answered with a short laugh. "Never seems to last until evening."

Sano didn't answer. He was too busy staring at her. He hadn't seen her that well in the darkness of night. But now she was sitting upright, naked in the morning light. She saw his expression and paled a bit. Then smiled.

"I told you I picked fights. Not all of them went well."

"That one looks like it went awfully wrong."

He pointed at an old but deep scar running from her right shoulder to her belly. There were others too, but they didn't look half as serious. She took another sip and had a relieved sigh as the after effects of alcohol slowly left her. She fell back on the futon.

"Yeah, I was lucky that time. Do you have anything to eat, by any chance?"

"Nope."

"It's a shame."

"I think so, too."

Food… yeah, food was a great idea. The sun was already quite high, so breakfast was probably over at the dojo. Since he was completely broke, and Yoko didn't look like she had any money either, that left the Akabeko.

"Let's go to the restaurant. I'm treating you."

She opened her eyes and looked at him, incredulous.

"You are?"

* * *

So, he was treating her at the Akabeko. Tae had sighed, but she had let them in while muttering something about interest rates. She was too generous for her own good. Or at least, Sano hoped she was. What were interest rates anyway?

"Do you really intend to pay the bill?" Yoko asked with a concerned look.

She was eating slowly and carefully, despite the obvious fact that she was hungry, very much reminding him of Kenshin. That and the katana she was keeping around told him she was probably from some samurai family. These people would eat their own sandals before they would come to the idea of selling the damn sword. Sano, on his side of the table, was emptying his bowl with no regard whatsoever for things as ridiculous as manners, which just got in the way between you and the meal. He swallowed his full mouth of food.

"Some day, I will." He replied with dignity.

"I feel sorry for the people here."

"Shut up and eat."

She didn't seem to want to argue too much with that and picked some more beef.

"Say, you're not from here, are you?" He asked when he was finished, enjoying a cup of hot tea.

"No, I just arrived last night."

"What about I show you the sights of Tokyo, then, hey?"

Her expression darkened. Her hands were nervously playing with her sticks. Ever since she had woken up in the morning, there had been some distant worry in her eyes.

"You're very kind, but… there is something… I have to do…"

Something to do, hey? Sano couldn't help but get a bad feeling about words like that. What kind of agenda could a vagrant have?

"Do you? I thought you were just a vagabond. What's the fun of wandering if you can't even take a day off?" he said, grinning.

"A… day off?"

"Give me one day to get your mind off serious stuff involving weapons, okay? You can do whatever you have to do tomorrow. What do you think?"

He stood up and reached his hand to her. Yoko looked up at him, uncertain. Then she laughed, and that sound made him feel strangely warm and happy.

"Alright," she said. "One day."

* * *

"I think we're lost," Yoko said, slightly amused.

"Of course we're not. I know exactly where we are," Sano protested.

"Do you?"

"I'm just not quite sure where _that_ is. Er… Let's get higher, so I can have a better look around."

They went up a small hill until they could see above the roofs of the city. They were on the outside of Tokyo. From there, they could see a good part of that side of town. The sun was shining and the sight was really nice.

"So? I told you I knew the best places."

"You don't even know how we got there."

"Does it matter?"

She grinned and let herself fall in the grass.

"No. The view is definitely interesting. What is this building other there?"

He sat next to her and looked at what she was pointing at.

"Ah, that's the department of internal affairs. A bunch of corrupted idiots decide stuff in there. I sneaked in once."

He bit his lip. He was getting a bit carried away. He still didn't know that much about her and the police could have some questions to ask, if they learned about this.

But she was looking quietly at the sky, as if trying to read something from the clouds.

"Really? What for?" she asked.

"Well… I was trying, er, to make it explode. I mean, not seriously. Er… Mostly, I was quite angry at them for being useless fat imperialists. Anyway, in the end I didn't do it. It was a stupid idea."

She laughed.

"It's nice you realized it in time."

"Yeah… I kind of have an extra insurance against stupid ideas," he replied, remembering Kenshin standing in front of him that night.

"It's true this government is wicked," she said in a more serious tone. "But if bombs and swords could make the world any better, we would live in paradise right now, wouldn't we?"

"That's true. I guess sometimes I'm just annoyed at myself for not doing more."

She had a thin smile.

"The heroes of this age are doctors, school teachers and reporters. Fighters are outmoded."

"If you really think that, why are you carrying a katana, then?"

She had slipped the sword at her belt when they had left the main streets. It was unnerving him a bit. Many people still had them, for various reasons. To claim a status they had lost, to impress or frighten other people, or as a way to show provocation towards the government who had forbidden them. But Yoko was wearing hers like a craftsman would carry a hammer at his belt: because although it wasn't needed right now, it was bound to be necessary at some point.

She hesitated. Her hand went nervously along the hilt. For an instant, Sano had the feeling she was shaking but she quickly retired her hand, looking cheerful again.

"I guess I just can't give up. I'm… not quite done with things of the past, yet."

"So you get drunk," he concluded.

"Well… Yes."

"I know how you feel."

"I suppose you do, Sanosuke of the Sekihoutai."

They stayed a moment there in silence, following their own trail of thought. This girl carrying too many weapons, she was up to something, he could feel it. The sun was getting low and in an hour or two, it would be night. She had said one day. She was going to walk away. And then, she would do something stupid. He was sure of that. He didn't want her to.

He got up.

"Come with me, let's eat supper before it gets dark."

"Are you planning to invite me in another restaurant? If you get yourself in more debts, you'll get in trouble."

He grinned.

"That's what she says all the time, too."

* * *

"You will like these guys. They're nice people. And there's always something to eat, although you might prefer to starve if Kaoru's doing the cooking herself again. Ah, here we are…"

"Kamiya dojo," Yoko read under her breath.

A young woman in kendo training clothes and a shinai in her hand opened the doors.

"Oh, it's you," she said at Sano.

Obviously, she had been looking forward to find someone else behind the door, but the fighter ignored this.

"Hi, Missy. The lady's name here is Yoko. She arrived in Tokyo today. Yoko, that's Kaoru."

Kaoru looked at the newcomer, surprised. Yoko bowed.

"Nice to meet you, Kaoru-san."

Kaoru answered her greeting, her smile back on her lips, and invited her in. Yoko followed her in the dojo where a young boy named Yahiko was doing his kata.

"Make yourself useful and go prepare some tea, you freeloader!" Kaoru shouted at him. "You're finished for today. You can clean the dojo later."

"Where is Kenshin anyway?" Sano asked while Yahiko disappeared, rambling something about slave drivers.

"He's out buying dinner. We will eat when he gets back."

She turned back to Yoko, who was looking at the now empty training room.

"You're a swordsman too, Yoko-san?" She asked, noticing the katana.

"I suppose you could say so," she replied, apparently lost in her thoughts. "So, this is your dojo?"

There was something reverent in her tone as she said the word dojo, as if talking of something of a high value, which made Kaoru blush a bit. People usually mocked the abandoned place.

"Well, it's small," she said, half apologetic. "Yahiko is the only student right now."

"He seems to be doing well, though," Yoko said with an appreciative smile.

To Sano's surprise, Kaoru beamed with pride.

"Yes, he is."

* * *

When Kenshin got back, bent under the weight of Kaoru's long shopping list, he was surprised to hear the colliding sound of shinai in the dojo, although Yahiko was sitting outside with Sanosuke. He let his load on the ground with a sigh of relief. Yahiko and Sano, seeing him come back with dinner, greeted him with exaggerated enthusiasm and came running to have a look at his purchases. Kenshin glanced at the dojo with curiosity. Two people were fighting in there. One of them was with no doubt Kaoru, but the other one?

"Who is here?" he asked.

"Sanosuke's girlfriend," Yahiko grinned before being knocked out by Sano.

"Oro?"

"I brought a friend," the fighter explained, slightly red. "The missy and her seem to get along well."

Kenshin left them behind to have a look inside. The two women were engaged in a fight. He could only see the visitor's back. She was holding a shinai, but there was a katana at her side. Kaoru was sweating heavily and had a concentrated look on her face. Then her gaze met his. She smiled.

"Kenshin! You're back! Let's stop it, then, Yoko-san. I'm exhausted!"

She went away to get a towel while her opponent turned back to look at the newcomer. Kenshin and Yoko both froze, their eyes widening. In perfect synchronization, their hands reached to their swords but they both stopped before touching the hilt, intently staring at each other.

For a second, they remained completely still, ready to draw, tensed like two cats about to leap.

"No." Yoko whispered. "Not now. Not here."

"Kenshin!" Kaoru called, unaware of what was happening behind her back. "I'll take a bath now. Can you take care of dinner?"

Both of them started at the cheerful order, like children surprised fighting by a parent.

"Kaoru-dono…"

"I'll help you," Yoko said quickly.

"Oro?"

But the young woman was already heading for the courtyard. She lifted a basket and looked back at Kenshin.

"Please show the way."

* * *

They both let their load on the shelves of the kitchen. For a moment, they remained here in silence, not looking at each other. The young woman took a knife and Kenshin's hand went instantly to his sword, but she merely reached for the vegetables and started reducing them to little squares with fast, fierce movements. He watched her, feeling stupid and worried at the same time.

"Make yourself useful and light the fire, will you?"

Kenshin, confused, picked up some wood and busied himself with the oven. He was at a loss for words. The whole situation was so absurd that he was nearly sure he was going to wake up from a dream soon. This person couldn't possibly be in this kitchen and actually _cook dinner for them_. It was as surrealas having Saito singing a Christmas song.

"I need some fresh water."

"But… Well…"

She glared at him.

"Yes. Water. Sure."

Maybe he had fever or something. He picked up the bucket and went to the pond while his puzzled mind was catching up with reality. Sano's girlfriend? How long had they known each other? Had she known about his link with Sano when she had met him? Probably not. She looked just as shocked as himself.

When he brought the water back to the kitchen, she took it off his hands, filled the pot over the fire, then started to add the vegetables and various spices. Once finished, she took a sake jug from the shelves, poured a cup and drank it straight. Her hands were slightly shaking.

Finally recovering his composure, Kenshin broke the silence.

"This is between the both of us," he said in a low voice. "I don't want to involve any of them."

"I don't plan to do so, either," she replied.

"What do you want?"

She hesitated.

"We will settle this," she said in a very quiet tone. "But not today. I promised Sano this day. It can wait until tomorrow. Will you keep this secret from him until then?"

She was avoiding his eyes. What a strange request. He thought about it. A day. Could the both of them really manage that? Do as if nothing had happened, as if the past never existed, as if it was a normal evening with friends? As if it was all just a dream. Yes. Like a strange summer dream.

"I will."

* * *

The weather was good and although night was falling, it was warm enough outside, and they all sat in the courtyard in front of the dojo. Sano beamed when he saw dinner arriving; Yahiko grabbed the older man by his vest to hold him back and they began fighting for the food while the others started eating more quietly. Yoko watched Kenshin look at them with affection and meekly try to separate them. And while they spoke and joked and ate, she noticed, at hundreds of little signs, how much all of them where looking up to him.

This bloody, bloody murderer…

…Who was not very frightening right now on account of being hit on the head with a shinai by a ten years old. It was disturbing, to intrude so suddenly in the private life of a man who she had hated for so long. She hadn't meant to be welcomed in such a place like a friend.

"Some more rice, Yoko-san?" asked Kaoru, handing the plate to her.

"Oh… er… yes, thank you."

She tried to prevent her eyes from wandering in Kenshin's direction, concentrating instead on Kaoru's light conversation. Yoko had instantly liked the girl. She had a good heart and a strong spirit. She had to, what with running her dojo on her own and feeding this bunch of freeloaders, although she was hardly an adult yet. And under her blunt ways, she was also very tactful, quickly avoiding any topic Yoko seemed uncomfortable with, like wherever she had learned kenjutsu, or whatever she was doing with her life right now. Chatting with her was pleasant and easy.

It helped her to forget the sound of Himura Kenshin laughing with Sano. The deep friendship between those two was so obvious that Yoko felt her heart miss a beat every time they exchanged words. Why, why, why on earth? Why did he have to be this assassin's best friend?

Himura looked so… normal. Even a bit of a fool, letting himself being pushed around like that, speaking in such a humble tone in his magenta gi. However… there was still something intently worrying about him. Something sharp. Although she never met his eyes, she constantly had the feeling that he was watching her. The both of them were keeping their swords very close.

Someone sat at her side and slapped her on the back.

"Stop looking so worried. You promised me to relax for today."

Sano… Sano had such a huge, comforting presence. It was like the space around him became all his, a warm and safe place where tragedies, past and future, had no place. How could this man who she didn't know have such a talent in calming her down? Now that his hand was on her shoulder, the presence of Himura Kenshin, along with the rest of the world, was suddenly unimportant. Yes, it was all like a dream… Like a strange summer dream.

But it was bound to end soon.

* * *

"Please come again whenever you wish."

Yoko bowed low to Kaoru, thanking her for her hospitality, while Sano just waived with a smile.

"Good night, Missy, Kenshin. See you tomorrow."

They both walked away in silence in the fresh night. Kaoru watched them, half amused, half affectionate.

"Don't you think they're cute?" she said to Kenshin. "It's the first time Sano brings a woman here. They look like they really do care for each other, too."

"They do, don't they…"

A look at Kenshin's smile was enough for Kaoru to know that something was wrong. He was worried, but he was trying to hide it from her, it was written all over his face. She knew her wanderer by now.

"What is it, Kenshin?" she asked carefully.

He looked at her hesitantly. Usually, he would talk about something like that with Sano. But the street fighter wasn't an option now. And also…

It was alright to protect her from his past as long as he had been looking at their relationship like at a halt on the wanderer's road. But since the events in Kyoto… Things were different. He was settling down. He was starting to accept the idea to stay here for good, to remain at her side. He knew it was also what she wished for.

However, if that was going to happen, he had to share more with her than he had done until now. Until then, he had kept mostly silent about his past, and she had dealt with it by dismissing it as something too old to be talked about. For her, these were things that had happened when she was a very young girl, a long time ago. She had said that it all didn't matter to her. But was she truly accepting the idea to live with an ex-murderer? Or was she merely closing her eyes on a truth she didn't want to see? Was she going to wake up in ten years to finally contemplate the reality about the man she had taken at her side?

At this point, just saying that someone's past didn't matter wasn't enough anymore. She had to understand what it truly meant. The implications of what he had done. The consequences of murder. He owed her this truth. So that she really could choose. He took her hand and she looked up at him, surprised. He led her back in front of the dojo to sit. She followed him silently, waiting for him to speak.

"Kaoru-dono," he started, trying to find the right words. "Yoko-dono and I, we know each other."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Really? But why…"

"We know each other… from the revolution."

"What?" she whispered. "No! I don't believe you! You have to be mistaken! She's even younger than you are! She would have been…"

"A child."

He was staring straight ahead, lost in recollection. A broken umbrella in a sea of blood…

Now it was too late to stop himself, but he was scared to keep talking. Ten years long, he had been running away from the cold Kyoto nights. He could, by now, face his faults and his remorse. But he had never been able to face the dark place in his heart where the ruthless Himura Battousai was buried, the rage of the assassin child walking on the edge of insanity.

When he started to speak again, his voice was so low that she could hardly hear it.

"She was in the wrong place, at the wrong time…"


	2. Kyoto Nights

Disclaimer: I don't own any rurouken characters.

**Kyoto Nights**

* * *

The youth was hiding in the shadow of a high wall, tensed, his hand on his katana. He could feel them coming down the street in his direction. He waited. He was completely still, except for his hand tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword.

It was the kind of stillness you had just before a tiger leaped or a bomb exploded. The sort you had when the mind keeps inside an unfathomable rage, nearly breaking under the strain. Himura Kenshin had a mind made of steel. It could deny the very existence of pain and fatigue even when the body was screaming to get its attention. As a swordsman, he strongly believed in self-control. These days, the people around him tried to believe in it as much as they could too, occasionally making a small prayer to whatever god who might be hearing, just in case. You only had to look in his eyes, in that deep amber stare, to understand that nothing but that permanent control stood between you and a very sharp blade.

Those were the old times, when a kid striving to beat the world into a better shape had given birth to the shadow assassin called Hitokiri Battousai.

For some reason, he was becoming more restless with each crime. Every trail of blood was making him edgier, angrier. He wanted it to be over already! This assassination. All assassinations. The whole damn revolution. This unfair, violent world was so unbearable. With a power like his, why wasn't it possible to make it better quicker than that? Katsura-san said you couldn't change a whole country in a day. But still…

Two meters left. He could hear the sound of their feet on the cobbles, resonating with his own heartbeat. A step. Another. One meter. Now.

_Do it in two moves._

He leaped forwards. The first swing sent a head rolling on the ground, the second cut swiftly through a ribcage. The dead samurai fell at his feet before they could even scream, their blood spreading between the cobbles like small red rivers. Kenshin gave a swing to his sword to clear the blood from the blade, then sheathed it.

His heartbeat hadn't changed pace.

At the beginning, he had allowed his prey to spot him and unsheathe before he stroke, because it's harder than you might think to use of violence against someone who isn't even aware of you. But he didn't bother anymore. One way or another, they died in the end, so it hardly mattered. To look for comfort in the fact that their katana was in their hand rather than at their belt was just hypocrisy. Better to get it done as fast as possible.

"Nice job, Himura."

He didn't turn to Iizuka. He wouldn't grace this kind of compliment with an answer. Really, what was there to be proud of? This slaughter was so easy, it truly was butchery. His own strength frustrated him. No one had a chance against Battousai. No one lived once he had decided their death. But even so, it didn't seem to change anything.

He glanced back at the two corpses, on which Iizuka was leaving the usual sign.

_Tenchuu_

Heaven's justice.

He looked up at the dark sky, wondering whether there really was anything like justice up there.

"Hey. You're bleeding…"

That comment suddenly irritated him; it earned Iizuka a sharp glance and the faint sound of a sword freed from its scabbard. The man instantly raised his hands, retreating. Kenshin's strength was like that of a torrent. You could find it beautiful and even use it for your own purpose, but you damn sure didn't want the barrage to break.

"I was just warning you! Don't be so sensitive!"

Kenshin pushed his sword back in his sheath and walked away with a sigh, absent-mindedly clearing the blood dropping from his cheek. He knew that he was overreacting. But he couldn't help it. These days, he was so easily irritated. As an assassin, it was necessary for him to walk on the edge of violence, but now it was as if he couldn't remember how to go back on normal ground. There was no peace left in his heart. As if his sword _wanted_ to be drawn…

He had to remind himself. To remind himself constantly. Now is not the time to kill. You only kill when necessary.

Looking at the blood on his fingers, he wondered whether he was slowly becoming insane. Whether it was a curse coming with that wound that wouldn't heal. If something like that happened... Who would stop him, then?

A red leaf crossed his path and he looked up at a high maple tree. Ah, yes, it was autumn, wasn't it? The tree was like a huge scarlet cloud.

* * *

**___October 1864_**

Yoko was kneeling before her calligraphy table. With careful, elegant moves, the child was copying the text that her maid had given to her. It was an education treatise for upper-class girls.

_The only qualities that befit a __woman are humility, obedience, chastity, discipline and quietness._

It was _dull_. But Yoko had got a stern look as she had said so, so she was now dutifully writing it down. From time to time, she looked up at her maid, who was reading some Confucius treatise, and wondered when she would be allowed to go and play with her brother again. He might bring her along to the dojo. She was a bit jealous of Kosuke, it wasn't fair that boys had all the fun stuff. You just needed to compare kenjutsu and flower arrangements to understand who had got the best hand in life.

Suddenly, she looked up from her work.

"Is my father going out?" she asked in a quiet voice.

The maid looked up, slightly startled.

"I didn't hear anything, Yoko-dono. But…"

The young girl put her brush back and hurried out of the room. Or at least she tried to hurry, which isn't easy when you wear a heavy kimono and are reminded by a reproachful maid that you should walk in a ladylike way.

Her father was in the courtyard, together with his son and several of his samurai. He was obviously in a very bad mood. She stopped at the door, not sure if interrupting him was such a good idea after all.

"Did you identify the murderers?" Lord Seichiro asked his men abruptly.

"I'm certain the Shinsengumi are responsible, Seichiro-sama," one of his samurai answered. "Most likely, Kondo and his unit are the murderers. The Aizu… are not very cooperative. They claim these men died from illness. I saw the corpses before they took them away, sir. It's the first time I see illness causing people to have their throats cut. It seems Matsudaira-sama gave his approval."

"Did he, now?" The tone of Seichiro Tourajiro announced a kind of storm his people had learned to fear. Not many people could make him that angry. Matsudaira Katamori, the daimyo of Aizu and now Military Commissioner of Kyoto, seemed to be particularly skilled at it. "Approval? For murdering people at night?"

"Well, he is a daimyo and they were his men… And they were guilty of…"

"And I am the administrator of Kyoto! This is my city and I am judge! I wanted these men to be condemned in the daylight, not to have their throats cut at night! But something like that doesn't look good for the Aizu domain, does it? Publicly admitting that some of his Shinsengumi wolves have bullied the innocents they should have protected, that would be too much to ask, surely! Better to clean it up in the darkness than to apologize to the victims! The people of this city start to like those Imperialists fanatics more than the Kyoto patrols, and I can't blame them!"

No one answered this. The silence stretched worryingly. Seichiro frowned. These men had all served him for their whole life and he could read their faces like opened books. He turned to the oldest one.

"There is something else, isn't there, Sasuke? What is it that you are not telling me?"

The worried samurai tried for a second to find the right words. A young man put a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. It was Kosuke.

"Father… It looks like… they didn't want to leave any witnesses."

There was another long, upsetting silence. Lord Seichiro did not shout.

"Who?"

"There were… women with them. They were having a party."

Lord Seichiro closed briefly his eyes.

"Go get a lamp, Kosuke. We're paying a midnight visit to Lord Matsudaira."

"Sir, it's very late, it could be dange…" Sasuke protested, but he was silenced by his master's gaze.

Seichiro turned back and noticed his young daughter watching him with worried eyes. His expression suddenly softened.

"Yoko! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed soon?"

Seichiro Torajirou walked to his daughter and took her in his arms.

"Why do you have to go out at night, father?"

"Now, now, are you questioning your father? This is none of your concern, young woman. You should go and sleep quietly. I have some work to do. When you wake up tomorrow, we'll be back."

"But…"

"Stop being a baby, Yoko," said Kosuke with a sigh.

Kosuke was seven years older than Yoko. He thought that his little sister could be quite annoying at times, but he would have cut in two anyone who would get close to harming her. Ten-years old Yoko, on her side, was literally worshiping her big brother half of the time. The other half, she hated him for not letting her follow him everywhere. She wanted to be like him. She wanted to do what he did. She would have jumped off a cliff if he had told her to. She went quiet immediately.

Her father let her to the ground again in front of her room. He patted her on the hair.

"Now, have a quiet night, my little girl."

Kosuke waved before turning round. She sneaked outside after them to watch them go. They were all wearing their daisho. As a daimyo's daughter, Yoko knew more or less how to wave a sword, but Kosuke and the others, when they trained, they were so awesome. She wanted to be like them, one day. Even if her father said that little girls should concentrate on other things.

She stayed a little while under the moonless night, even though they had already disappeared behind the corner. She didn't want to go to bed. She was feeling quite lonely.

Yoko's mother had died when she was very young. The only women in her life were the maids: quiet, polite young women who were the daughters of lower samurais and usually disappeared after a while to get married. She had grown up in the middle of swordsmen and she liked it. But they always made it clear that she didn't belong with them. Always leaving her behind.

She wasn't stupid. She heard things. She knew it was dangerous out there. Her father had been suddenly assigned as the Kyoto general administrator by the Shogun three months previously and they all had moved to the capital very quickly. She had heard that her father's predecessor had been murdered by some mysterious assassin. Now there was a lot of activity around the house, her father was always busy and nervous. She could feel how worried they all were. But they never told her anything. She was forbidden to get out of the house, even with her maid.

It started to rain.

She turned her palm up to catch the drops, her gaze lost in the distance. Then she thought of the umbrella left by the door. Her father had forgotten it. It was hardly an excuse at all and she already knew that she would get in serious trouble for this, but she ignored the thought. She walked to the doorstep, carefully staying out of sight of the servants, grabbed it, and hurried out into the night.

At the end of the street, she looked around, uncertain, then saw the light of their lamp in the distance. They were turning in a nearby street. She followed them as fast as she could. As she turned the corner behind them, she stopped dead.

Her heart was racing before she knew why. Something was wrong. The air suddenly felt heavy. Her father and his men were standing very still, watching something in the darkness. They had their hands on their swords. There was no other sound in the dead street than the rain falling.

A shadow stepped into the light of the lamp.

She would always remember how small and young he was. A child with a demon's gaze.

Sasuke was slain in two before he even had time to draw his sword. Saizou, throat cut, quickly followed him on the ground. Kosuke somehow managed to block the first blow, then charged with a cry… and slayed empty air.

He was above. Yoko screamed.

* * *

The sword cut through flesh and bone. The young man fell dead on the ground, the scent of blood rising in the air. There was a scream and Kenshin felt sudden panic invade him. That was a child's voice. Why was a child here? There shouldn't be any child here!

One of the Kyoto patrols was sure to have heard this. Kenshin had to finish his job and get away quickly.

The man he had to kill was watching in dismay the body of his dead son. Then his gaze fell on the murderer and he broke in an attacking stance. Kenshin had to admit, he had more nerve than he would have expected from one of those daimyo.

They charged at each other. There was a violent shock as the blades met. One of them broke and the shattered sword rebounded on the cobbles with a metallic sound. Kenshin turned back to his prey. Lord Seichiro was lying on the ground, now deeply wounded, and he had no weapon any more. But he was still alive. The assassin took a step forward.

A small figure hurried in front of him.

Kenshin contemplated an instant the little girl in white kimono, soaked by the rain. She was holding an umbrella defensively in front of her, shaking from head to foot.

Who was that? What on earth was she doing?

Little Yoko, eyes wide opened, could only listen at her own heart beating so loud. Paralyzed by this amber gaze, watching straight to her.

He took another step.

If Death itself had eyes, they would have that same expression.

"No…" she whispered in a small, terrified voice. "Please… No…"

A prayer to the night, to the gods, to whoever was walking in the lonely streets.

"Go away," he hissed.

She winced but didn't move. Maybe because she couldn't.

"Please…"

In the silent night, her weak plea seemed to resonate louder than any scream. Kenshin tightened his grip on his katana. She was in the way. He couldn't just leave and let this man live. _She was in the way._

_Calm down._

The sword sliced the air. The umbrella fell to pieces in the girl's hands. She was unhurt, but under shock, her legs gave up and she fell on her knees. The blood soaking the street made large purple flowers on the embroidered silk of her kimono.

"Go."

Another voice, hoarse with pain, whispered behind her:

"Run."

Her father. Her father who was dying behind her.

"Yoko… please… run."

And those words nailed her to the ground. She couldn't run. She couldn't leave him. She couldn't let him die here. She simply couldn't.

Her trembling hand reached to the hilt of the broken sword.

The young Kenshin watched in amazement as the small girl stood up, holding the shattered weapon with both hands, trying to manage a basic stance. Her face was blank.

His fierce eyes focused again. He was losing time. It was getting dangerous. This was just insane. Why wouldn't she run!

"You're in my _way_."

His voice was cold steel.

Yoko felt as if the world had lost all reality for her. It was so dark. There was so much blood. Kosuke wasn't moving. Nothing was making any sense anymore. But somehow, she knew what she had to do. It was very simple. Her father was behind, the assassin was in front. And she was going to stand there. Right in the middle. In the murderer's way. And die.

She ran at him.

He didn't even touch her. He used a ki attack to throw her at the side. She rolled on the ground with a cry and watched, with wide-opened eyes, as Kenshin quickly finished off her dying father by cutting his throat in a swift, precise move.

There was a scream of deep, horrible pain.

As Kenshin disappeared in the narrow streets, it followed him into the shadows. It would haunt his nights for months. Then deeper shadows would replace it in his nightmares.

* * *

The Shinsengumi patrol ran in the direction of the scream, but when they arrived, it was already far too late. They found the four dead bodies lying in their own blood. And kneeling besides them, her white kimono tainted scarlet, a girl holding a broken sword with both hands. She was breathing hard, her whole body shaking.

Yamanami bent at her side, quickly checking her for wounds. She wasn't hurt. Kondo walked to the corpses and turned them around to identify them.

"Shit. That one's the administrator Seichiro. We're going to hear about this…"

"I'm not really sorry about it," Hijikata snorted. "He was getting on my nerves. Kyoto's probably better off without him."

"I just hope no one will believe we killed him ourselves, what with yesterday night's messy business," Yamanami retorted coldly. "The other victims were probably his bodyguards. But what the hell is this girl doing here?"

He turned back to her.

"Who are you?" he asked gently. "Can you tell me your name?"

She slowly turned her eyes at him but didn't answer. She was still under shock. He tried to get the sword off her hands but she was holding it so tightly that he decided to give up for now. He took her in his arms. She didn't resist it.

"What were you thinking, picking up this thing?" the Shinsengumi asked with a sigh. "Do you know how lucky you are to be still alive?"

That was the word he used. She would remember it later.

_Lucky._

* * *

Himura Battousai washed his hands. The cold water took a pink taint. After drying up with a towel, he silently made his way to his room. He didn't bother to take a candle with him. He felt better in the darkness.

_It's alright._

On the way, he stopped, hesitated, and entered the kitchen. It was empty. Everyone was asleep. He took a jug of sake from the shelves. He would tell Okami-san tomorrow. She wouldn't mind. She never did. He went on to his room upstairs.

After closing his door behind him, he let himself fall to the ground. Although tonight's mission hadn't been such a huge physical effort, he felt completely worn out.

_I did the job and I didn't hurt her. It all went alright._

He opened the jug and took a sip, trying to drown the anguish. But the taste was awful. He was feeling nauseous.

When he had left his master's hut in the mountains, he had had dreams. He had wanted nothing else than to wield his sword to protect other people. How did it turn out like this? A little girl had begged for help and he hadn't been her protector.

He had been her monster.

He had become what he had wanted to slay.

_No!_

_It's not like that. __I'm not just doing this for nothing. I'm doing it to create a new era. A world of peace. A price has to be paid. We will throw ourselves into disorder. We have to destroy the old world in order for happiness to be possible. A price has to be paid._

_So people who have a sword are bad, and people who don't are good?_

"Shut up!" he shouted at Tomoe's voice in his head.

These eyes watching him with dread and horror…

_It's alright. The child wasn't hurt__. It will be worth it. It's alright._

But Tomoe's eyes, as calm as a lake on full moon night, were looking at him in the darkness. And he knew what they told him.

_No. It is not alright. It is not alright at all._

* * *

"Who's that?"

Okita was staring at the group of five men who had just entered the courtyard of the now mourning Seichiro estate. Half of the small Shinsengumi patrol had been sent there to assist the administrator's former retainers. Not that they were very happy about it.

"They're samurai of Lord Haisen," Yamanami explained. He's the daimyo of Shonai domain. "I understand he was the closest relative of Lord Seichiro. He will inherit his property. They're here to take care of things."

Okita frowned.

"He sent retainers? He didn't come himself?"

"You're thinking about the child, aren't you?" Yamanami said with a tired smile. "Well, he's a daimyo. He has things to do. And Kyoto has proven dangerous for people like him, these days. Anyway, about that little girl…"

He went silent in mid-sentence and Okita's boyish face went stern. The kid hadn't said a word since the evening they had found her. And although her face looked calm, her hands were shaking. Shaking all the time. It looked like something in her had snapped. Yamanami seemed concerned too. Unusually concerned, actually. Okita suspected their interest for this girl was partly because of the sword they had found in her hands. She had faced an assassin who could get rid of several trained swordsmen in minutes and, for some reason, she hadn't run. She had picked up a sword. She had showed a kind of spirit many grown men didn't have. It was sad to see her broken.

The retainers of Shonai walked out of the building again, together with some of Seichiro's samurai.

"This is rather embarrassing," one muttered.

"I understand, but since your master will inherit all of Lord Seichiro's property…"

"My master takes his responsibility very seriously, I assure you. However, a child who… who doesn't have all her mind… I do not wish to give offence but you have to agree she might be a little… a little unstable. It would be best for everyone if we could find a family able to take her in their care. You understand that the charge of a daimyo doesn't allow for bad rumors and…"

Yamanami seized his friend's arm to keep him from any stupid idea that would be crossing his mind.

"But Keisuke! Do you understand what they're saying? How can these _cowards_…"

"I know. I had enough."

He released Okita's arm and walked to the main house. His companion, confused, followed him. Yamanami walked directly to the room of the little girl and opened the door. The maid sitting at her side gave a jump of surprise. The kid merely stared at him, her face expressionless.

"Come with me," Yamanami said.

At Okita's surprise, she slowly went on her feet, had a short bow for her maid to excuse herself, then followed the man in blue haori. They all walked behind Yamanami, the maid following as well, apparently confused about what she was supposed to do. He led them to the dojo in the rear courtyard, opened the door, and entered it, the little girl still behind him.

He picked up two bokken from the wall and handed her one. She stared at it. Then stared at him. A weak smile on her lips, she was studying the man in front of her, as if trying to figure out where all this was leading to.

"Can you use a sword?" Yamanami asked.

His voice wasn't the kind of gentle tone adults usually use when addressing children. It was… nearly challenging.

As a way of answer, she took the bokken. As her hand closed on the hilt, she stopped shivering. Yamanami smiled, as if that was confirming his thoughts. He walked away to leave her space. She took a stance, holding her bokken with both hands at the side. It looked a bit shabby, but she obviously did know some basics.

"Now, attack me."

She still seemed unsure what she was supposed to do. She hesitated a bit, then went forward, got the footing wrong, and weakly tried to hit the Shinsengumi's lower side. He blocked it easily and counter-attacked with a blow in the stomach, sending her to the ground.

"Keisuke!" Okita shouted.

She was on her knees. The strike had hit her lungs and she had trouble to breath. Worried, Okita realized the maid had run away. There was no doubt she would bring someone back anytime soon. This wasn't just any child, she was a daimyo's daughter. Someone as low-ranked as the Shinsengumi could get in serious trouble just for being rude to her.

"Is it what you think I'm expecting from you?" Yamanami asked. "Stand up."

And she stood up, holding tightly on her bokken. She should have been afraid, in pain and confused, and she was all that, Okita realized, but the only expression on her face was now of fierce concentration. She wanted to fight back.

"Yoko. I am a Shinsengumi," Yamanami said. "Do you know what they call us?"

A small voice, a bit hoarse from keeping silent for too long, answered very quietly:

"The wolves of Mibu."

"Do you know why?"

"They say you behave like wolves."

The Shinsengumi had a hollow smile.

"This is what they say. And it is the truth. I'm a wolf, Yoko. There is no need to hide from me. I see you _exactly as you are_."

For the first time, she looked shocked. Yamanami took a step forward and Yoko backed away, holding her wooden sword defensively.

"As a wolf to a wolf, I know exactly what you feel right now."

What she felt… Okita wondered what she did feel. He tried to read her ki but found he had trouble doing it. Under the deep calm of the surface, there was such an incoherent pattern of emotions that he was wondering how and for what purpose that kid was holding herself together at all. What Keisuke was doing now, smashing down the walls she had built around her confused soul, he wondered whether it really was a good idea. There was no telling what would come out of such a messed up mind.

"As a wolf to a wolf," Yamanami went on, "I will tell you again: attack me now."

* * *

"Keisuke…"

Yamanami silently walked outside of the dojo. Okita couldn't decide whether he was happy or not with the outcome of his friend's "duel" with the girl. He had brought the kid to speak again, at least. It had to be a good sign. However…

"Keisuke… she had only a wooden sword and no real chance to hit you at all, but…"

"I know."

"She really tried to kill you in there. _She wanted you to die_."

"I know."

"Why did you have to tell her that she was a wolf?" he asked angrily.

Yamanami had an amused smile at his friend's protective tone and opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by the arrival of the earlier group of samurai, brought back by the girl's maid. One of them, obviously the highest ranked, hurried in front.

"May I ask what you're doing, young man?"

"I… Well, sir, actually, I have a suggestion."

The Shonai retainer looked like he considered it more appropriate for the likes of Yamanami to go do whatever dirty business they were ordered to do rather than to start making suggestions of any sort. But a good upper-class upbringing trained you to be polite in any circumstances, even the ones where you say "you have disappointed me, so please go and cut your own belly as soon as possible".

"A suggestion, really?"

"I suggest entrusting the care of the young lady to the family of Chiba Shusaku-sensei."

A thoughtful silence followed this answer. The samurai exchanged glances. The name of Chiba Shusaku was well known all other Japan. He was a much respected kenjutsu master. One might have argued that this did not necessarily qualify him as a good tutor for a ten years old girl. However, this was not, at the moment, the main concern of the Shonai retainers. Their main concern was to get rid of a potentially insane kid and to make sure that their master's inheritance of Lord Seichiro's domain went as smoothly as possible. The Chiba family was not important enough to ever cause any trouble to a daimyo, but it was good enough to give the child a good education and an honest marriage. They considered it.

"You know Chiba-sensei?"

"Yes. He used to be my kenjutsu master," Yamanami answered.

"If he is willing to take care of the young lady, he should meet us tomorrow."

* * *

Kenshin's hands were long clean but he kept washing them in the icy water. Some of the blood always stayed hidden somewhere. Under his nails maybe, or in his hair. The scent never left him.

_At this point__, do you still plan to kill forever?_

_Kill for__ever?_

The question turned endlessly in his mind in the quiet voice of Tomoe, while his finger slowly turned blue from the cold water.

_Forever?_

He had joined the revolution a year ago, it seemed like a century. He had killed so many and nothing had changed.

Would it ever end?

What if it didn't work? What if people still suffered? What if the new era never came? What if it came but didn't keep its promises? How long would he keep fighting, then?

Sometimes he felt so angry inside. Sometimes he looked around him in the street and thought of all the stupidity, meanness, ungratefulness of some of the idiots he saw walking around, and…

And killing was just so easy.

A rapid swing of the sword and over with this moron bullying his servant, over with this thickhead insulting his wife, over with this fool beating his son. Injustice was everywhere and sometimes he felt he really wasn't killing enough of them.

He spread water on his face, shivering in the cold night.

No good to think this way. You couldn't murder all the idiots on earth, could you?

But then, when would it end?

No matter how hard he tried to imagine, he saw no future. Even the new era he was fighting for was as distant as a dream. It was something he couldn't touch, something he was no part of. The only tangible reality was his sword. A killing sword. There were people like Katsura for the future. People who could see the times for violence and the times for peace. Kenshin couldn't. He didn't hope. Hope was an exhausting thing and his heart had no strength left for it. All he could do was believe in Katsura.

He would kill as long as he would be ordered to. It was the cold, sad answer. The truth of all assassins.

Was it the only answer he could come up with? This girl's questions were taking his sleep away…

_No, your crimes take your sleep__ away._

Angry at himself, he dried up and hurried back to his room. As he approached it, he saw light under the door. He pushed it with a sigh. The soft scent of white plum welcomed him. She was sitting in seiza by the lamp, reading.

"Shouldn't you sleep at this hour of night?" he asked quietly.

She looked up, obviously surprised by his silent arrival. The paranoiac soldier in him winced. How could anyone be so unguarded?

"I found this book here," she said, pointing at the shelves. "I thought I could keep reading until you came back. I have no time for it during the day, and I disturb the other girls if I let the lamp lit too long in our room."

He couldn't find anything to answer. The world of books made him a little shy. He could read and write, of course, but not very well. That hadn't been the priority of Hiko Seijuro's education; his master was far from being a scholar himself. Tomoe, on contrary, read often whenever she had free time and had a beautiful handwriting.

She went back to her reading. He sat on the ground, watching the flickering light of the lamp wander on her face, her eyes following the lines of kanji. From time to time, her hand left the pages of the book to push back a black lock falling in front of her eyes. Kenshin had just walked out of the shadows where he had brutally murdered two people. In contrast, the peace of this room where a girl was reading didn't seem to be part of reality.

Finally, she closed it and glanced at him.

"I'm sorry, I'll let you rest."

She looked back at the book cover.

"I used to have a copy of the Man'youshuu at home. I was happy to find one here."

"The… Man'youshuu?"

She handed the book to him. He took it and opened it carefully. It was poetry. He read a few lines, but the formulations were strange, and there were kanji he didn't identify. Thoughtful, he wondered what in this could keep anyone awake until the middle of the night.

"They're poems from the Taika era, she explained."

Kenshin's eyes widened. He tried to remember when the Taika era had been. Hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Maybe even a thousand years ago. This poetry was at least three times older than the Hiten Mitsurugi ryu, in any case.

"That old?" he whispered.

"Some parts of it are even older. There are poems in there which were already a thousand years old at the beginning of the Edo era. Some things are so beautiful that they stay alive in the hearts of men, and travel through the centuries. Like the Man'youshuu. Or the game of go."

He looked back at the verses, feeling ignorant and insignificant in front of the ancient kanji. There were people who wrote things that were still read after a thousand years. And maybe in another thousand years, another girl would open a copy of the old anthology and read it through the night, touched by the words of men already long dead. The poems would keep traveling, undisturbed by the rage and fury he was awaking in the Kyoto streets. He closed the book, nearly reverently, and gave it back to her.

"You can keep it. I don't think anyone else here will read it."

She took it and made a short bow.

"Thank you."

She stood up and pushed the door to leave, then looked back at him.

"Have a good night."

Kenshin had another sigh as the door closed behind her. Her perfume was still floating in the room. He sat by the window, putting his sword on his shoulder. He didn't feel like sleeping though, still wondering about his own feelings. For some reason, the world had just gone soft. It looked more beautiful. A nicer place to live in… Tomoe's presence had that effect on him. It worried him too, however. The headquarters of Choshu patriots was no place for a young woman with a taste for poetry. Why was she so stubborn in staying in a place that dangerous? Why was she so interested in him? What would he do if she left?

Yes, he'd long stopped to really think about the future. But Tomoe… Tomoe's soft voice… Tomoe's scent… Tomoe's silent presence… It made him want to hope for her. If all the violent nights could manage to create some safe place for her to smile in… Wouldn't it be worth it, then?

* * *

I'm sorry, I was absent for a while despite having written most of this chapter (and the next ones for that matter) ages ago. I have a good excuse. I was writing a book. Not a novel, just some boring technical stuff, but 400 pages of it. It was pretty short notice, too, and I had to write it while still doing my normal full-time job, so for a while I had to give up on leisure activities, like for example eating and sleeping. Well, with that amount of reviewers there can't have been so many people waiting for an update, but sorry to my few readers anyway ^^°

Now the damn thing is in the publisher's hands and I had a whole week vacation to collapse on a bed and sleep, so I'm back.

By the way: **if there are any voluntary beta-readers in the assistance**, please contact me. I like to have as much feedback as possible before posting… You get all the chapters before everyone else and you can make all the nasty comments you want ;-)

This chapter ended up longer than I wanted it to be, but I simply had too much fun writing it, so it couldn't be helped. At the beginning Yoko's past was simpler, but then I couldn't help involving the Shinsengumi in it, because it gives me an excuse to talk about them.

The next chapter is called "Otsu". There will be more Kenshin/Tomoe and more Shinsengumi. I had a lot of fun writing it too.

Historical Note: I mixed up fictional and historical characters and events in there. Seichiro's character as well as his family and retainers are completely fictional. Truly, the Kyoto administrator was never assassinated. Matsudaira and all the Shinsengumi characters are historical, though, as you already know if you've looked into the historical background of Rurouken. The assassination which upsets Lord Seichiro so much at the beginning of the chapter is the murder of Serizawa, who was one of the founders of the Shinsengumi and was killed (as well as his men and the woman he was with) by Kondo's faction. That was before Saitou, Okita and the others became unit captains. October 1964 was a crisis time for the Shinsengumi, who weren't that many to begin with and greatly reduced their own numbers by killing each other. It's only after the whole Ikedaiya affair that they became more popular and got plenty of new recruits. At that point, they organized themselves in the ten units you have heard of in Rurouken. You can read more about this on Wikipedia.


	3. Otsu

Some readers might get confused with this chapter and how I tell the whole Tomoe/Kenshin story. I used the manga as a reference rather than the OAV. The main difference is that in the manga, Kenshin marries Tomoe "for real", while in the OAV it's just for cover up. I like the first version much more.

Readers of Peacemaker Kurogane might also recognize the character of Ichimura Tetsunosuke, aka Tetsu. He is a historical character. I allowed myself to build on the little I know from the historical background, I don't base on the background set up in Peacemaker Kurogane, which doesn't fit with this fic. Sorry for the Peacemaker fans!

Chiba Shusaku is a historical character as well (but I cheated a bit by locating his dojo in Kyoto).

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouken! (sadly)

**Otsu**

Tomoe watched through the opened door the boy sleeping at the window.

She felt life was a bit unfair to her. She had come all this way, taken all these risks to kill the man who had destroyed her life. You would think the gods would go easy on her and make her ennemy someone who would be easy to hate and easy to stab. But instead, he was a boy younger than herself, and more courteous than most men she knew.

So this was the guardian of chaos, was it? The demon that terrified Kyoto, the one who would throw the country in disorder?

Looking at him, it was hard to believe. Asleep, there was a strange peace on his face, a calmness that seemed nearly out of place. He was… yes… beautiful. On his wake hours, he was always on edge, always on guard, always somehow angry at something, like a tiger ready to leap.

But now… She could see nothing but a tired youth. Who was going to catch a cold, sleeping so carelessly near an opened window... Having raised a younger brother, there were reflexes Tomoe couldn't fight back. She took off her scarf and walked to him to protect him against the autumn wind.

The sword was so fast that she could only freeze, unable to make any move to escape. Cold steel on her throat, she saw these burning eyes, the fire of the assassin's rage on this child's face.

He brutaly pushed her away and they both fell to the ground. For a few seconds they stayed there in silent shock, trying to catch their breath, waiting for their mind to recover from the catastrophe that had nearly happened.

"I'm so sorry", he finally whispered.

She stared at him. A moment before, she had nearly doubted how dangerous he really was. And as if the gods had answered her, she had seen it again, the face of the demon who had murdered a hundred men. But he was gone now, leaving behind a youth who looked much more shocked than herself.

"Ha…" He said with a desperate laugh. "Look at me, bragging about not killing civilians. If you had come any closer…"

He was shivering all over. He sounded so scared. The guardian of disorder? Had it been Enishi, she would have just slapped him. She would have scolded him for playing with something as dangerous as a sword and it would have been the end of it. Maybe all this one had missed was someone to give him a proper slap to remind him that war was an adult's game. Instead people had seen his ability, watched him with calculating eyes, used him for their own purpose.

And here he was, trying to keep being a good person despite the horrible things he was doing, angry at the whole world, walking in the streets with a weapon and a messed up notion of good and bad. Becoming insane…

What did these people think they were doing?

"You need something to suppress the madness, so I will stay a little longer."

His eyes opened in wonder as her scarf landed on his lap, and when she saw his hand closing on the cloth like a drowning man seizing a rope, her heart sank.

Yes, it was the day it started. For Tomoe, it was the day the world began to turn upside-down. When the one she had come to destroy desperately reached to her.

* * *

"What is this girl doing here _again_?" Saito muttered, as two playing children passed running in front of him. "Isn't she supposed to stay at the Genbukan? This place isn't a kindergarten."

Yoko was now theoretically under the responsibility of Chiba Shusaku, master of Hokushin Itto ryu, and stayed at the Genbukan, his dojo. Unfortunately, this was also the place were Tetsu, Hijikata's young page, was sent for kenjutsu lessons. The kids were both orphans and roughly of the same age. They had become friends. Well, the kind of friends who fought each other all day long except when joining up to fight against someone else. Little Yoko had certainly become more lively. When the two brats were together, people started to close doors and windows, just in case. You wouldn't believe how creative kids this small could be when it came to trouble.

Additionally, the girl seemed to have kind of adopted Yamanami Keisuke, deciding unilaterally that he was her surrogate father. As a result, she was at the Shinsengumi's headquarters every time she could, looking cute, getting in everyone's way, and distracting Tetsu from his page duties, which exasperated Saito to no end.

"She and Tetsu were thrown out of the Genbukan for a week, so she has to stay here in the meantime," Okita explained cheerfully. "Isn't that great?"

"_Wonderful_," Saito muttered.

"Thrown out?" Harada asked. "What did they do to annoy the old man Chiba that much?"

"As far as I know, one of their dojo comrades kept making ungallant comments about Yoko-chan. And he ended up with a broken nose and a few bruises. And wet."

"Wet?"

"A midnight bath in the river, or so it seems," the captain of the first unit explained, giggling.

Harada raised an eyebrow.

"They beat him up? The both of them? That's not very fair play to go two on one."

"Come _on_!" Okita protested, with an exasperated tone. "It was a sixteen years old and a third-level student! If they had gone one on one, they would have lost."

Saito glared at his younger comrade, whose smile was too self-satisfied to be honest.

"Okita…"

"Yes?"

"You're behind this. You are, aren't you?"

The young swordsman looked at him with his best expression of the innocent unfairly accused.

"Of course not!"

Saito raised an eyebrow.

"I only helped out with the small details," Okita admitted with a smirk. "It's part of a man's duty to give advice to the young ones. You know. How to set up an ambush properly, and so on."

Harada sighed.

"I think we have a bad influence on these children."

"Oh, you think so?" Saito retorted sarcastically. "Wait a minute… Are these knives they're playing with?" He threw an accusing glare at Okita. "Did they steal them, or did you give this to them?"

"Well…"

"Knives are no toys!"

"These kids _know_ what knives are for."

"Yes, that's what worries me!"

"It's alright. I told them not to kill anyone with it."

Sometimes Saito suspected Okita was being stupid on purpose just because it annoyed him.

"You're just as immature as them! Now, are you going to start your patrol or will you play the baby-sitter all day? Unless you plan to take them with you?"

"It would be a nice distraction from those boring walks", the young man replied cheerfully, "but Keisuke would kill me if I did that. So, since you're done for today, will you look after the two, Saito-san?"

"What?"

Saito had a desperate look at Harada, but the captain of the tenth unit just shrugged.

"I'm on duty. Got to train the new recruits. Sorry."

"So, I'll be going!" Okita said, waving. "Have fun!"

"No! Wait…!"

But they were already gone.

* * *

Yamanami Keisuke was enjoying a quiet evening. At least as quiet as it could be while Yoko and Tetsu were "dueling" in the courtyard with wooden swords. He dimly hoped they would get tired enough to actually fall asleep without protest and refrain from any creative ideas until the next day. With a sigh, he took a sip from the warm tea the little girl had brought him earlier. She was cute, when she didn't look as if she wanted to kill someone.

He heard the faint sound of steps just behind him. It had to be Okita. No one else could get behind his back fully unnoticed.

"Someday they'll be dangerous, the both of them," the captain of the first unit said happily.

"Yes," Yamanami answered.

Unlike his younger friend, that knowledge didn't bring a smile on his lips. There had been a time when people hadn't wished for their children to become dangerous. They'd wished them a happy marriage and a quiet life. But it was so long ago it seemed to belong to another world. So long ago that someone as young as Okita Souji couldn't truly remember it.

"Tetsu-kun has agility and already very good technique," Okita went on. "Yoko-chan's style is a little messy, but she's rather fast, and sometimes shows surprising accuracy. Have you noticed? She can already feel ki."

"Seems to be a natural talent."

"You don't look pleased about it. Aren't you the one who insisted on her learning kenjutsu?"

"I insisted because she needs it. Because it's the only way she can handle the poison in her heart."

"What do you mean?" Okita frowned.

"Hate."

On a completely different tone, he went on:

"And actually, sometimes I would rather prefer her to use her talents with less enthusiasm. I wouldn't have as many headaches."

"Aren't you a little too severe with her?" Okita retorted with a grin. "She's such a cute and polite little girl."

"Can't deny that," admitted Yamanami, sarcastic. "Always very polite. Very good at making tea and bowing in a ladylike way. Good manners are obviously a number one priority of a daimyo's daughter education. Common sense, unfortunately, isn't. And these children seem to get way _too much_ encouragement every time they decide to get themselves into trouble."

"Hahaha, really?" said Okita, suddenly desperately looking for escape routes.

"They've been practicing your „how to ambush people bigger than you"-lessons, apparently."

"Er…"

"With the local yakuza."

"Er…"

"It seems one of their little plans went wrong. They nearly got killed. Thankfully, they were lucky enough to run into Saito-kun's patrol before half a dozen angry men with swords caught up with them. He wasn't pleased."

Okita laughed nervously under the murderous glare of his friend.

"Er… well… I did tell them they should practice running away before trying _that_ one out."

"As a result of your advice, they _did_ practice that a lot this morning." Yamanami had a deep sigh. "I will punish her, and Hijikata will do whatever he sees fit with his page. But what am I to do with you, Souji?"

"What about we settle it with a duel?" Okita offered with a bright smile.

"Show off. You say that because you know you'll win."

"It was just a suggestion."

"Yoko!" Yamanami suddenly shouted at his protégée. "Stop being so reckless! I told you a hundred times to concentrate a little more on defense."

"But he didn't hit me!" Young Yoko protested.

"Only because he's too slow." ("Hey!" Tetsu moaned). "You're leaving openings all over the place! Pay attention!"

Okita had a worried look at his older friend. He was never particularly cheerful; but these days, there was something in his eyes Okita didn't like to see. An anger slowly turning into despair. And a heavy, heavy tiredness.

"You're in a bad mood, Sannan. It's not just because of Yoko-chan, is it?"

Yamanami ignored the question, following attentively the movements of the two children.

"You had a fight with Hijikata-san again," Okita insisted. "You did, didn't you? It's about moving into this temple again, isn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about this with you, Souji …" Yamanami groaned. There was a warning in his voice. But young Okita always ignored warnings, as a rule. He thought they were meant for other people.

"Listen, he has good arguments. We do need the rooms…"

"We need it, so we take it! And this is alright, is it?" Keisuke bursted suddenly.

"You make it sound like thievery! It's not for our personal profit that we need the place, it's in order to accomplish our duty…"

"Our duty," Yamanami said coldly, "is to protect. If we bully the innocents and walk onto that which is sacred, then what becomes that duty you're talking about? If we allow ourselves to spread fear and chaos, then we might as well side with the imperialists, or simply go home."

"I… understand," Okita said weakly, in a voice suggesting that he didn't. "But we have to win this war."

"Wrong. Our purpose is not to win a war. Our purpose is to protect our country, our people, our institutions and rules. If we break all of this down in order to win the damn war, we're no different from a bodyguard who would let his charge be killed in order to take down the assassin. If victory implies that any group of swordsmen strong enough can chase monks from their temple and disturb their retreat, then that victory is useless! It will be the victory of a pitiful, lawless army."

"We are not lawless," Okita protested reproachfully. "Lawless people would pillage and bully for their own profit. You know what happened to the last Shinsengumi who tried that, since you helped cutting their throats! But we're fighting a hard battle. We need more people, and to manage more people we need more space. The monks should understand that. Sometimes, compromises are necessary."

"We have already made too many compromises," Yamanami hissed. "We are no Shinsengumi if we compromise with justice. Justice is our reason to be. How can it be just for religious to be thrown out of their place of prayer? Where will they go? And why doesn't anyone care?"

In the courtyard, Yoko blocked a blow from Tetsu. The rage in the little girl's eyes as she fought back had nothing to do with playing. Okita nodded approvingly. Yamanami shivered.

"I fear it is already too late for Japan," he went on. "Sometimes I wake up at night and believe we have lost long ago and simply refuse to see it. Look around! Is there still something to save? Hasn't the power of the Shogun already crumbled, when all he can do to keep Kyoto is decrete military law and set wolves like us loose in the streets? When nothing but murder and torture stands between us and a revolution?"

"I don't know about the Shogun. But what about Yoko-chan?" Okita answered quietly. "Do you want to give up on this country she's going to grow up in? Maybe it's never going to turn back into the place you would want for her. But isn't she alive and growing up well? Isn't it worth anything? I personally think we still have a lot to lose… and a lot to fight for."

"That might be," Yamanami whispered.

"If you keep thinking like that, you won't see the end of this war, Keisuke."

"That might be."

* * *

Tomoe was walking fast to keep up with him, staying close behind Kenshin in the ravaged outskirts of Kyoto. From time to time, her hand wandered to the dagger hidden in her obi. She was playing with the idea to stab him in the back. But in a rather distant way, as if contemplating a fantasy that would never come true. Maybe she needed that fantasy as an excuse to follow him so desperately. If she had been honest with herself, Tomoe would have known the real reason why she stayed so close to him.

In the chaos of this city at war, she was holding on to him. It was just plain ridiculous, but this unstable assassin youth, who had murdered her fiancé and already nearly killed her, could create a place around himself where she felt she had nothing to fear.

_I will never harm you. Not you. Not ever._

She trusted him. She believed every word he said. You couldn't help but believe eyes like that. So deep and serious, so… determinated.

Her hand closed on her dagger once more. Why did he have to say those things? It made her so confused!

"He's here," said Kenshin's soft voice.

Tomoe looked around but couldn't see anyone. Her young companion walked to a bridge and lay on the rail.

"I'm glad you're alive, Katsura-san."

"Himura," answered a voice from under the bridge.

She bent over the rail and saw him. The Choshu leader now looked like a random vagabond.

"I heard about the Ikedaiya," Kenshin said. "This mad plan to burn Kyoto down… You were the only one to oppose it. Katagi said your escape was divine intervention."

"But now, just look at me…" Katsura replied with a tired voice. "A rebel in hiding. I can't even go back to Hagi."

Despite the efforts of Kenshin and his companions, the Shogunate had invaded the Choshu domain, furious after the Ikedaiya incident. Many of Katsura's allies had been delivered to the Shogun's hands. Others had been ordered to commit seppuku. It was a hard blow for the revolution.

"What should I do next?" Kenshin asked. "Kohagi Inn was burned down…"

"I've prepared a farm in Otsu, outside Kyoto. Until I decide our next move, you'll hide there. Oh. And Tomoe-kun?"

Tomoe startled at her name.

"Yes?"

"If you have nowhere to go, why don't you stay with Himura?"

Her eyes widened. She went red, then pale, then red again. At a loss for words, she didn't answer anything. Stay with Himura. What did he mean by that?

"It's easier to hide for a young couple. I don't mind if it's just for cover up." Katsura added as he stood up to walk away.

_He_ didn't mind, did he? she thought, blushing again. How very kind of him! Who did this man think he was, really, to mess with people's lives like that?

The contact of a hand taking hers brought her back to reality. Himura Kenshin was staring at her with those determined, unflinching eyes. Her heart missed a beat.

"What do you think?"

She couldn't utter a word. Something in her said that she should take her hand from him, but for some reason, she was unable to.

"Let's go to Otsu together," the youth went on softly. "But not for cover up. For the both of us."

_For the…_

He suddenly blushed under her wondering stare. He gulped a few times, looking for words. He looked like he was fighting some frightening duel with himself.

"I… want to… I mean… You're alone and… I… will protect you. I will _always_ protect you. Do you want to stay at my side? Tomoe-san, do you want to stay at my side forever?"

And she knew he meant every word. She knew it nearly painfully.

When Tomoe let her second hand rest on his, she told herself that her mission demanded for her to keep following him. So she had basically no choice. This was all for her revenge. She wasn't doing anything wrong. This had nothing to do with nonsense like falling in love with her fiancé's murderer.

Not at all.

* * *

They had arrived at the mountain home in the morning. Tomoe had left to buy something to eat in the nearest village, leaving to Kenshin the task to prepare the house. He had offered to accompany her but she had declined. Possibly she needed to be alone with her thoughts.

It had been a fast wedding, no feast and no friends. Tomoe had seemed neither sad nor happy and even now, he had no idea how she really felt about it. It was all a little awkward. None of them talked a lot, and when they talked it was rarely of themselves. She had married him although she knew nothing about him, nothing but that he was an assassin, and he still wasn't sure whether she had agreed to this wedding because she had nowhere else to go or because she truly desired it.

He had no doubt, though, about the reason why he had offered it. He would protect her. He would protect her to the end. Nothing was more important than that in his heart now. Not even the revolution.

Katsura's people had done a good job, and he didn't have much to do in the house: there was everything they needed. There was even some wood at the back for the fireplace. He decided to light a fire and make some tea for Tomoe.

The water was starting to boil when he felt them come. They had probably seen the smoke from the fire. They were hesitating, slowly walking closer, then stopping to try and see if they could catch a glimpse of someone. Feeling growingly amused by the little game, Kenshin filled the teapot with warm water, then decided to satisfy their curiosity. He picked up one of the futon and went outside to air it a bit. Three small figures hurried behind the trees, trying to hide from Kenshin's eyes and completely failing.

He generously ignored the obvious signs of their presence and went back in, his futon under the arm, hoping they would try to get closer again. But they remained still for a while, maybe because they wanted to be completely sure that he wasn't going to go out again and surprise them sneaking around his house. He decided to help them out a bit and started to hum a song.

It worked. The kids felt a little safer, hearing a young and cheerful voice, and began to walk on the uncovered ground to risk a look into the house. He had left the door slightly opened. They weren't going to miss that. From the corner of his eyes, he saw some dark hair showing up in the entrance but ignored it and kept working around. Every time his housework brought him too close to the door, they jumped back out of sight, and he took some pleasure into nearly surprising them a few times.

Then he checked on the tea and decided there was enough for everyone.

"Now, you must be thirsty" he said at the door, smiling. "What about you get out of there and take a drink?"

There was a short silence, then some whispering, and some louder whispering. One of the three showed up timidly. He seemed to be about eight years old. Realizing that he wasn't going to be scolded, he smiled back.

"Hi. I'm Shinta."

The name took the young assassin by surprise.

"Hi, Shinta. I'm Kenshin."

And for some reason, it felt as if this dark-haired boy was watching him directly from the past. As if he had been sent there to see what kind of man Kenshin had become. He shook the thought away. He didn't want to scare off the kids by looking worried. He poured some tea into the cups he had prepared and made him sign to come closer.

"Come take a sit, Shinta." He said, smiling.

One after the other, the small spies started to show up from behind the door. It looked safe enough and the tea smelled good.

Kenshin tried his best to look like he wanted to frighten them while not being frightening at all. It was tougher than you might think. The trick was to exagerate it all, like on a theater stage.

"I'll show you, you little brat!" he claimed, waving his fake sword all around. "I, Hijikata Toshizou, will cut you to pieces!"

Ever since the Ikedaya affair, the names of the Shinsengumi were known all over Kansai. The kids, excited by the game, looked like they were hesitating between bursting in laughter and running away. Shinta, the bravest of the lot, raised his wooden stick and jumped at him.

"You don't frighten me, Shinsengumi!" he yelled in his small voice. The whole little troop followed his example and fell on Kenshin, whose own wooden stick gracefully moved to stop the blows, purposefully slow but still accurate enough to keep all the little wannabe swordsmen away. The children laughed at the performance and kept coming at him, to see how long he would hold them back.

It was fun, nearly exhilarating. Kenshin started to laugh with the kids, answering to their weak moves without thinking. It was as if he'd become a child again, before his sword was a killing one, when swordsmanship was still this place without limits where he could go beyond himself. As if months of heavy darkness were relieved from his shoulders all at once.

Suddenly, he crossed Tomoe's gaze and froze. Shinta's blow hit him at the side, to the kid's surprise.

"Kenshin-nii-san?"

Kenshin smiled at him.

"I think that's enough playing for today. Your parents will get worried if you don't go home."

The children didn't look happy about the idea, but they had felt the sudden change of mood in Kenshin and waved goodbye without moaning too much. Shinta stayed behind.

"Who's that?" He asked Kenshin, pointing at the young Tomoe who was walking towards them.

"That's… my wife" Kenshin said, uncertain.

"Oh…"

The child looked back at Kenshin.

"Can we come and play again?"

The swordsman answered with a happy smile.

"Come as often as you want."

The boy giggled and ran away.

"See you, Kenshin-nii-san!"

He disappeared at the end of the road, leaving Kenshin with Tomoe. Who exchanged another glance with him, but said nothing. She went inside without a word.

Feeling like he'd done something wrong, but unsure about what it was, he followed her in. She went directly at the fire and started to unpack her goods for cooking.

"Could you get me fresh water?"

"Sure," he answered. He picked up a bucket and went to the pond, thoughtful. There was something sharp in her tone and in her eyes. Something faint; it would hardly be annoyance at all for anyone else, but Tomoe was a subtle person who didn't give away her thoughts easily.

He went back in with the water and left it at her side. She didn't thank him for it and this lack of politeness alone was a clear sign that she was upset. Confused, he wondered if he should ask directly. But not knowing how to formulate that kind of question, he just stayed there and watched her cook in silence.

Finally, she put down a bowl a little too brutally at her side and sighed, aware that in her back, her young husband hadn't moved or said a word for the last ten minutes.

"War isn't a game." She said softly.

The words hit him like cold water.

"I know that," he replied.

"You do. And then, you don't. Or you wouldn't play it so carelessly."

"They were just wooden sticks," he protested faintly.

"Wooden sticks become real swords one day. Do you think these children should look forward to it?"

"No! But…"

He went silent.

"But?"

"But… if they went to protect themselves… to protect their families… They will have to."

"That's exactly what I mean," she answered with a tired sigh.

She turned to face him, her calm dark eyes meeting his.

"You think having to live with a sword at your side to protect yourself is normal. And these children, the more they look at the world around them, the more they think it to. But it isn't normal. This isn't what life is about."

He hesitated, not fully understanding her words.

"Isn't it?"

"No."

"What is it about, then?"

He was so clueless, she thought, as she contemplated his wondering expression. He was the dangerous, murderous Battousai, but he was fifteen years old, and he was clueless. What was life about then? How to explain it to him? She hesitated a few seconds, perhaps looking for words.

Then, in the end, she decided that words weren't needed.

She bent forward and softly kissed his lips.

* * *

"Ah, Kenshin-san! Still on the roads, I see!"

Kenshin answered with a bright smile. It'd taken a while to learn how to smile, but he had the hang of it now. It felt… warm.

"Yes, Hidae-san. I had to look for some plants."

"Such a good-working young man," the old man replied. "Maybe you have something for me, my stomach keeps hurting since yesterday."

"I'm sure I can find something," Kenshin said, putting his medicine box on the ground and looking for the right plants. That was a great idea of Katsura to make him work as an apothecary. Hiko Seijurou had told him a lot about healing plants, since such knowledge could be quite handy for a lonely swordsman. He found something that would help digestion and handed it to Hidae-san.

"I've got no money," the old man said. "What about some daikon for you and your young lady?"

"That's perfect."

He was often paid in food. Crops were always there, while money only happened after you'd gone to the market to sell it. He took the daikon radishes gratefully.

They were heavy. It was another kind of weight than that of a sword. The weight of sweat and effort… It brought memories. Old memories of another farm, of fields were nothing grew. Of sickness and hunger and despair…

_Don't think about that_.

Anyway, here the people had at least enough to eat, even if some of them didn't have anything else. And there was no epidemy. Mostly, the medicine Kenshin sold was for little things of everyday's life, things that could be cured. Nothing as bad as cholera. And it was close enough to Kyoto that most bandits avoided it. In Otsu, people did not fear for their lives.

Kenshin didn't even know that places like this existed.

As he walked on the unique road of Otsu village, he felt lighter than he had in years. It was like it was the first time in his life that he could breathe freely.

The medicine box on his shoulders had a strange weight to it, like the daikon radishes. It was the weight of the hands reaching to him, waiting for cure or comfort. It was the weight of children's smiles and people's thanks.

And the weight of Tomoe's gaze.

He could feel her looking at him differently every day.

She was a quiet and composed young woman, and rather hard to read. He never really knew what she was thinking. But every time he walked towards home, he knew she would prepare tea and warm the house for his return. He knew she would wait for him by the fire, and welcome him with a nod when he would walk in. And he would say those precious words:

"I'm home!"

He knew already that this dream couldn't last, of course. He would have been a fool to forget that. But he tried not to think about it. There was no use in wasting these moments in worries.

There was the delicious scent of Tomoe's cooking, the soft steps of Tomoe walking around, the tender touch of Tomoe's hand on his cheek…

Making him shiver…

And Tomoe's lips, Tomoe's embrace. The daily miracle of Tomoe's love. The warmth of her body and the sound of her voice.

The permanent anger in him had disappeared, like melted down by her presence. And slowly, the teenager was beginning to understand. Tomoe was right. Life wasn't really about fighting. Life was about smiles and tears, about the scent of miso soup and the sound of the rain, about gossiping old women and giggling children messing up the house. It wasn't about changing the face of the world. It was about taking care of the people around you. _This_ was the happiness he had been protecting. What he had been craving for.

_What __you have been destroying, too._

He shook the thought away.

* * *

Then, one morning, the feeling of an absence. The missing warmth at his side, in the futon. And a letter.

The cold, cold, sinking thought.

Tomoe. Gone. Tomoe is gone.

That can't be happening.

I'll get Tomoe back.

The long run in the forest, a mad chase driven by pure rage; oh, he'd have killed anyone this day, the emperor himself if he'd been on his way. Pain was nothing, cold was nothing; there was only that unbearable absence, the urgency to find her. Tomoe, Tomoe, Tomoe… Get Tomoe back… It can't be happening. I won't let it happen. Not her. Not now. I swore to protect her. Get Tomoe back…

His eyes and ears hurting, the paralyzing cold, lost too much blood…

Nearly dead, but doesn't matter. I can do it. I can kill him. I'll kill and I'll die, but that's fine. I'll die but she'll be safe. It was always meant this way.

One blow.

And then…

And then.

The smell of blood and white plum.

* * *

Kenshin half walked, half fell in the snow, hardly able to feel anything in the cold. If it hadn't been for the body in his arms, he would never have made a step more. He would have just let himself die. But he had to bring her back. Even though she was dead, he had to. She was his wife. He had to.

Tomoe.

Each step was more painful and he had lost too much blood. He could hardly see where he was going.

But he couldn't have cared less.

She was in his arms. Even though the warmth had now long left her, no force in the world could have made him loose his grip on her now. Not even death.

He finally reached their home. He crossed the doorstep and fell on his knees, very carefully laying her on the ground. The fire that Tomoe had awakened on the same morning, so that he wouldn't feel cold in his sleep, was still warming the house. He brushed her cheek with his hand. The tears came back.

Why?

It didn't make any sense.

Such happiness could not be destroyed with a single swing of the blade. Such a precious existence could not be erased so fast and so easily.

He had done it so many times. Had the world gone that dark for every breath stolen by his blade? How many had died? He couldn't remember. How many had lived to fall into the hell of loss?

He had thought he understood what killing meant. He had dealt with it by locking his heart away, believing that he wouldn't live long anyway, believing that there were reasons, believing that it was, somehow, alright. The horror of his acts where now before him, and all he could do was cry, and cry…

She had tried to tell him. Other people had tried to tell him. But the boy who had grown up between cholera and murder had failed to understand the true value of life. Now that the pain was nailing him to the ground, he knew the price that had really been paid. Not by him, but by people as innocent and kind as Tomoe, silently burying their dead in the shadows of war.

His hand caressed her dark hair. He had thought it acceptable that some should be destroyed for many more to live happier. But he knew better now. There wasn't such a thing as an acceptable death. There wasn't such a thing as a good enough reason to kill. Even one was too much.

Someone like himself didn't deserve to live.

But dying now wouldn't change anything. She wouldn't have wanted that.

What could he do? He felt so small and hopeless before the atrocity of his own crimes. Was there anything he could do?

He would have to fight the revolution to the end. If it failed, all of it would truly be meaningless slaughter. But after that…

After that, whatever the circumstances, no matter what happened, he would never kill again.

Never. Again.

* * *

"Sannan…"

Yamanami didn't offer his friend any smile. He wasn't in the mood.

"No."

"Don't you dare protect _me_!" Okita shouted. "I said I wanted to do it, so…"

"_No_."

"Why not?"

"Souji," Yamanami retorted with a warning glare, "I _am_ your commanding officer. Go back to your room. You are not needed here."

"Yes, I am! _You_ need me."

"Okita," Hijikata interrupted, "if I haven't misheard, you were just given an order."

The young man opened his mouth to protest again, exchanged a glance with both of his officers, then thought better of it. He turned back and walked away, his fists clenched furiously.

"He knows you don't want to do this," Hijikata stated.

"He's right about that, but what I want really has little to do with anything," Yamanami answered, annoyed. "Let's go."

They both entered the room. It was at the back of the rear courtyard, far away from the main buildings of the headquarters, so people wouldn't hear. It was small and had no windows. The floor was bare earth. A man was hanged there upside down by the ankles, his head a meter above the floor, his hands tied behind his back. He was crying quietly. He probably knew what was going to happen to him. The Shinsengumi had a reputation, now. There were rumors. People talked about dark rooms were you were asked questions, repeatedly, as long as you still had blood in your veins.

Yamanami had a look at the prisoner and bit his lips disapprovingly. He stayed near the door, his back leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

The man had been brought there after a messy operation in a tea house. Everyone important had somehow got away from the Shinsengumi, probably warned by someone, but the young cook had clumsily run into Saito's unit. It was likely that he sympathized with the imperialists. But he didn't know anything important. He was just the one who made the dangos. He kept saying that he was in the kitchen the whole time, that he couldn't overhear any conversation from there, that he didn't even know names.

Hijikata Toshizou did not believe this.

Yamanami had argued. With Hijikata and, of course, with Kondo. But the mad plan to burn Kyoto down they had prevented only a few months ago had made them paranoiac about the safety of the city. They saw complots and terrorists everywhere. As long as Kondo wasn't convinced that nothing could be learned from further interrogation, there was nothing Yamanami could do for this twenty years old, who hadn't done anything worse than cook for the wrong people.

All he could do was watch. Try to make it as little horrible as possible. Prevent Hijikata from going too far. But what was "too far"? Weren't they way overboard already?

And Souji who wanted to take his place. He was damned if he let that happen. Souji, one of the youngest and strongest and most fragile of the whole troop. Souji, his little brother in heart, the frightening demon with the kind smile who always had sweets in his pockets and the smell of blood on his clothes. He couldn't let Souji become any worse than he already was. Some things do irreparable damage to the soul. Yamanami wouldn't allow anyone but Kondo, Hijikata and himself to have anything to do with "interrogation".

Their young prisoner was no fighter; unlike other preys of the Shinsengumi, he had never been trained to endure pain. After an hour, he was already begging for death. Crying and choking and repeating I know nothing, please, please, I know nothing. Yamanami watched. He watched the youth and he watched Hijikata and he thought, how can he do it? I know him. He isn't a monster. He has strength and determination but aside from that, he's a normal man who likes Haiku, tobacco and good miso soup. He's not unkind. How does he do it? Does he tell himself he isn't torturing a human being, but rather some kind of insect? Does he sleep at night? And what about _me_?

But the answer, truly, was simple.

Duty.

Samurai live and die for duty. As long as this was their duty, it didn't really matter how dirty it was. If Yamanami hadn't doubted that this truly was their duty, then he wouldn't have had second thoughts, as horrible as it might be. He doubted, though. Was what they were doing the best for Kyoto? For Japan? What if the answer was no? These questions haunted him. The others could feel his hesitation, and his authority as a vice-commander suffered from it.

After two hours, the screams finally died out as the young cook fainted. He was obviously at the limit of what his body could endure.

"Enough," Yamanami said. "Outside. Now."

Hijikata hesitated. But Yamanami was still his superior, and no one really wanted to discuss his orders when he used that tone. They both walked out of the torture room.

"He doesn't know anything. This isn't acting. I want this to stop."

"But he must know something," Hijikata protested. "Even if it's barely anything, even if it's just a name, it could make a huge difference. He's protecting this Choshu dogs!"

"It's nonsense, he's long too confused to think of protecting anyone. Aren't you just pissed that the ones we tracked were warned of our arrival before we raided this tea house?" Yamanami replied evenly. "Aren't you just getting even with the merchants who side with the imperialists?"

"You're accusing me of taking personal revenge on an innocent?" Hijikata retorted, outraged.

"No. But I do wonder if you and Kondo-san aren't trying to terrify the people into siding with us rather than our enemies. _"Keep away from them or you'll die a slow death"_, isn't that the message you want to give them?"

"If they protect these lawless dogs, they have to live with the consequences!" Hijikata roared. "Who knows what these Choshu fanatics might be plotting, now that they're desperate? They did plan to burn Kyoto down, to kidnap the emperor himself! Wouldn't this be worth it, if we could save thousands of lives, like on the night of the Ikedaiya affair? The power of the Shogunate is starting to crumble; it's no time to worry about the life of one coward!"

"I see your point, but this has nothing to do with justice! If we let evil guide our own actions, then we're nothing but another gang terrifying the people of this city. We aren't fighting so that innocents will live in the fear of being tortured for talking with the wrong people! This isn't the world we want to protect!"

Hijikata shook his head, disgusted.

"You're just not fit for fighting this war, Sannan. Good feelings like yours have no place on this merciless battlefield. It's too late for this kind of thinking. You…"

He suddenly fell silent. Both men looked back at the building, where a weak ki was beginning to falter dangerously. Yamanami rushed back inside, Hijikata on his heels.

They brought the young man down, cut the ropes tying his hands, tried to ease his pain, but it was too late already. His heart was running like mad and wouldn't calm down. Finally, it brutally stopped beating. After a few spasms, the eyes of the young prisoner froze. Yamanami closed his eyelids with a deep sigh.

"Shit," Hijikata muttered. "I didn't think he had a weak heart."

"Yes," Yamanami whispered, his hand still on the youth's face. He didn't even look angry. Just terribly tired. "Toshizou… please send someone to find out where his parents live. Don't talk to them. Just bring me the address. I will go there later."

"You don't have to be the one doing it."

"What makes you think that?" Yamanami asked quietly. "I still am the second in command of the Shinsengumi. For everything that happens here, I carry responsibility. Now go. It's an order."

Hijikata shook his head and left. Yamanami knew what he thought. _You won't see the end of this war if you go on like this, Sannan_. Possibly, he was right. But what mattered now, was that a twenty years old had died under torture. For nothing. He'd allowed this to happen.

The Shinsengumi vice-commander stayed a few minutes at the body's side. Possibly praying. Or possibly merely thinking; about what was right and what wasn't. About where his duty was, and why it was so hard to find out.

Finally, he stood up. Parents had to be told that their son had died from the Shinsengumi's hands. He needed a bath and clothes which weren't stained in blood. He pushed back the doors of the torture room. Behind it, in the courtyard, a young girl was waiting, her expression unreadable. Tetsu was with her, nervously pulling the sleeve of her kimono.

"Come on, Yoko," he was saying. "Let's go… we can't stay here…"

She stared at Yamanami Keisuke without a word.

"What are you doing here? I told you not to play near this place!" was all Yamanami could manage. Her expression did not change but he could see in her eyes what she thought: _what a poor excuse. Is that all you can come up with?_ She had a short bow and left, while Tetsu followed her, occasionally throwing worried glances at Yamanami.

As he saw her walking away from him in silence, he knew what she was telling him. He'd crossed the line. He'd probably crossed it long ago, only he hadn't noticed it because the world around him was so mad that he looked like a moderated, reasonable man, even though he let women be murdered in front of him and young men be tortured to death.

And he couldn't stop it. Kondo hardly listened to him anymore. Even the unit captains rather took their orders from Hijikata than from him. His authority was crumbling a little more every time he tried to steer the Shinsengumi away from the brutal road they had chosen for themselves, from what they thought was their duty. No one seemed to remember the world he wanted back, a world where people could walk in the street without fear for their life.

Yamanami Keisuke had lost his war.

* * *

"Yoko…"

She looked up from the go board. Yamanami liked playing go with the girl. It allowed him to spend time not thinking of anything but white and black stones. It helped him focus when his doubts were too upsetting.

He'd thought it over a thousand times. The conclusion wasn't pleasing. But then, few things were, these days.

"Sir?" Yoko asked.

"Are you happy?"

She stared at him in silence. She had an upsetting stare. It was true that she had an unusual talent at reading ki. She sometimes reminded him of her father, Seichiro Torajirou, who used to be a sly, cunning politician.

"Why do you ask?" she replied quietly. Yes, much like her father. Damn hard to lie to.

"Should I not worry about your happiness?" he replied lightly. "When I'm going to such pains to make you reach adulthood alive – even though you're making this a rather hard job, I must add?"

She stayed silent for a while. Then she looked down at the board, picked up a stone, and played it. A daring move. She was just as reckless on the board as in the dojo. Perhaps Yamanami could kill that stone. At the very least, he would make it hard for it to live. He moved on. Yoko looked thoughtfully at the board, then back at him.

"Once, my father came to play go with me, while he had something on his mind, just like you."

She played her black stone, trying to make eye shape with a forcing move. Yamanami answered.

"Take me with you."

He nearly dropped his stone.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know that!" she said with an accusing tone. "You're asking me these questions because you're going to abandon me. I don't want that. I don't care where you're going. Take me with you!"

"It's going to be dangerous."

"My father said that too, when he was going to leave for Kyoto."

"And he was right," Yamanami said sternly. "You could have been killed that night."

"If I'd stayed behind, I would have been far away when he died."

"Maybe it would have been better so."

"It wouldn't," the girl protested.

"Are you sure about that?" the Shinsengumi asked seriously.

"It wouldn't. I would just have lost him earlier. What do you think? I would have been less sad if it had all happened far from me? What's the use of lying to yourself like that?"

"Yoko… this… is going to be a little different from a business trip."

She had a strange, sad smile.

"He said that, too…"

The loneliness in that smile won him over. All along, she'd avoided answering his question about being happy. Sly, sly little Yoko.

And in the meantime, she'd somehow managed a living shape on the board, destroying a good part of his territory. Damn.

* * *

In the end, maybe the kid was his reason for not giving up. Maybe she was the reason he was leaving and not simply committing seppuku. So he took her along. They both left Kyoto in the middle of the night. And that was it. He was leaving. He was doing the unthinkable:

Quitting the Shinsengumi.

He knew it was a road you could not come back from. It was desertion. If any of his old comrades ever caught up to him, it was death. But he didn't care anymore. All this was unimportant. Even dishonor was. He was going to carry the little girl in his arms out of this hell, right _now_. That was the one thing that still mattered, really.

They disappeared unnoticed from the city and seeked refuge in the mountains. It's there, a little away from the main road, that they found shelter in an empty house.

In Otsu.

Yoko woke up shivering, a deep fear buried in her stomach. She didn't pause to think about it. She jumped to Yamanami and woke him. As he opened his eyes, she whispered to him words that she would only understand after she had pronounced them:

"Outside… He's outside…"

Who was "he"? She had no idea. She just felt he was there and Yamanami, who had learned to respect her unusual instinct, didn't ask. He jumped on his feet, took her in his arms, and without a word escaped through the back door.

It was still night and barely the end of winter. It was freezing cold. Their breaths were condensing before them as he carried her through the dark woods, as silently as possible, trying to conceal their figures in the shadows of the high trees.

She held tighter, the deep anguish in her increasing again.

_He_ was coming after them. She could feel it in her racing heart, in her shivering hands, in her whole body. He was somewhere there, walking in their steps, not even bothering to look in the small house where they had spent the night, going straight to the woods… She had no idea how close, or from which direction, but she felt it as if he was gazing directly at her. He would get closer. It was impossible to run in the woods in the middle of the night. They weren't going to make it. They weren't.

And suddenly the shadow was there, right on front of them. Yamanami let slowly Yoko down. She looked at their enemy and the threat coming from this dark figure was so terrible that she mistook him an instant for the assassin who had destroyed her family. But then he stepped in a moon ray and she recognized him.

"Okita-san…"

Her voice was pleading. As if trying to call back the man who used to play and laugh with her. There was no trace of kindness in him now. This wasn't private. This was duty. There would be no mercy.

"So it's you they sent," Yamanami said calmly. "Kondo has a strange sense of humor."

"Come back with me, Keisuke," Okita said in a low voice.

She watched them facing each other in the moonlight, Yamanami Keisuke and Okita Souji, the nearly brothers, about to fight each other. To fight for real, until death.

But Yamanami didn't even touch his sword. He just smiled.

"Yes. Let's go back."

* * *

She was sitting in seiza, staring straight ahead with this strange, blank gaze that was hers whenever the world went too mad for her to handle it.

_I apologize for leaving you, Yoko._

In the middle of the room, in front of about twenty silent spectators, Yamanami Keisuke was quietly drinking his last cup of tea. Okita was sitting at his left side, as still as a statue.

_Sometimes… Some things are more important than staying alive. Sometimes you have to give up on some things so that you can hold on to more important ones. I cannot accept any longer to live as I have done until then. I certainly cannot tolerate what I would have to agree to if I were to go on living. Death is the only way to leave the Shinsengumi. So, I have to die. Do you understand?_

Everyone was there. The ones who were here to support him, and the ones who were here to witness his downfall. He placed the empty cup back on the plate.

_Do you understand?_

The teacup was taken away by a quiet servant and replaced by a dagger. Yamanami Keisuke nodded slightly. Okita, his face expressionless, slowly stood up, drawing his sword. He took his stance, the blade parallel to the ground behind his friend's collar. Keisuke reached for the dagger and pointed the blade to his belly. Taking a deep breath, he stabbed himself in the stomach, opening a deep wound from left to right. As soon as he was done, Okita's blade swiftly cut his neck, stopping short before beheading him.

Yoko, her eyes wide opened, her wrists clenched, watched him fall. He had died by his own hand and with the help of his closest friend. But he really had been killed by unknown phantoms: by the slow despair of an unending war, by the heavy weight of the sword in his hand, by the horrors of orders he could not disobey. Yoko had sworn to herself that no one would ever be killed in front of her anymore. However, in the end, she couldn't do anything.

She couldn't move. She couldn't scream. She couldn't even stand between him and the blade as she had done for her father. She could only watch in silence, unable to understand any of this. The world was nothing but a sea of blood.

With a swift movement of the wrist, Okita cleared his sword of his friend's blood. Then he slowly sheathed it and kneed back at the side of Keisuke's body. The young man looked as if he had aged ten years in a day.

_Try to be happy, Yoko._

She couldn't even cry. All she could find in her soul was a deep cold rage. Yamanami Keisuke had wanted her to be happy. But that wouldn't happen. Because there wasn't anything like happiness in this damned, wicked world. There was no way out of the darkness.

And the resolution that was born in her heart in a rainy night became as hard as steel. If she couldn't stop the blood from flooding, at least she would stop one assassin.

She would kill.

* * *

About Yamanami's nickname: Shinsengumi fan already now that Yamanami Keisuke was nicknamed Sannan (which was simply another way to pronounce his name). Yoko picked it when she decided to change her name, after the war.

Author's note: Hi, everyone. Thank you for reading this chapter. If you liked it, or even if you didn't, please leave a review! I'll keep writing even if you don't, but it's depressing not to know what you think.

So, Yoko's part in this chapter was in the end a lot more about Yamanami Keisuke. But I really wanted to write about this character. The story of his suicide has interested me for a long time, and since no one really knows what happened exactly, I could just let my imagination do what it liked. Peacemaker Kurogane has described the character as kind and somewhat weak (even though useful in his own way to the Shinsengumi). I always preferred to think about someone as intransigent as Hijikata, but who had another perception of his duty. Someone who had his own ideals, but had no one else on his side and gave up.

Also, he was a good way to give another point of view about the revolution. I made him say a lot of things that were important for me to add, and that neither Kenshin nor Yoko could say, maybe because they are both too young.

When I found out that Yamanami had been captured in Otsu, only three months after Tomoe was killed in the same place, I couldn't resist adding this event in the fic.

The next chapter is called "The Red Pond". We skip a few years. Kenshin and Yoko meet again, this time on the battlefield of Toba-Fushimi. I hope you look forward to it.


	4. The Red Pond

**The ****Red ****Pond  
**

Once upon a time, there was a city. And at the doors of the city, there were bridges. And on the bridges there were cannons.

There came fifteen thousand men who went along the river. They stopped before the bridges and said: "We must come through."

And the cannons answered.

They called it the Red Pond.

The battle of Toba-Fushimi.

* * *

_28__th __of __January __1868_

_Toba-Fushimi, 2nd day  
_

The first sunrays touched Kenshin's tired face and woke him up. He opened his eyes but remained still, listening to the quiet steps of the servants in the corridors.

Many people wondered about what could frighten the Battousai, a man so strong he seemed invulnerable and whose bravery had been proven countless times. They would have been surprised by the truth: Kenshin dreaded the mornings. The sunrise scared him. Every time he waked up, the anguish was there, waiting for him, stealing away his rest. Because for him, the future held nothing but the faces of those he would have to kill.

He couldn't let that stop him, though. He still had work to do.

_To__protect._

Most of the daily routine he did on an automatic mode, letting his body run itself as if it was all someone else's business. Washing up. Dressing up. Heading for the breakfast room. It was noisy. He hated noise. Especially this noise. He knew what they were talking about even before he could hear them: his fellow soldiers were happily recolecting yesterday's battle. Although they were outnumbered, the imperialists had all reasons to feel optimist. They had the cannons on their side. Before them, the enemies fell like flies.

Poor little flies.

As he entered the room and sat in a corner, Kenshin tried to shut up his own anger. He didn't really blame his companions. It was hard to be a killer for long without developing a comforting distance to those you slaughtered. You needed the conviction that destroying the enemy was a good thing. To remember each and every day that the lives you were ending where human lives, to feel sorrow for it, a soldier who would do that wouldn't stay sane for long.

He knew that well enough.

He didn't blame them, but he wished he wouldn't have to hear them laugh about it.

A servant saw him and quickly carried over his breakfast. He didn't feel like eating but he did it anyway, as mechanically as he did the rest. He was used to take care of his body in the same way he took care of his swords. It had to be ready when he needed it.

_To __protect._

_We __cannot __let __the Shogun __get __Kyoto __back._

_To __protect._

_How __long __before __the __river __turns __crimson?_

He set down his sticks next to his bowl, his rice only half eaten. He couldn't clear his mind from the thunder of the Armstrong cannons. Even though he had already seen and done so much, this was a different kind of slaughter. Kenshin knew he was himself a kind of weapon of mass destruction. The Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu had no lessons to take from firearms when it came to a quick death. But at least a swordsman could choose who died and who didn't. The cannons didn't know ally from foe, didn't know soldier from civilian. They just crushed everything that was in the way. It was blind massacre. And the shogunate armies, unable to cope with the new weapons, just charged and charged again and piled up the corpses on the river banks.

He stood up, walked out of the breakfast room, then quietly made his way through the corridors and finally got out of the inn.

Soon. The battle would start again soon and the slaughter would go on. Katsura would not back off until the Shogun gave Kyoto up, no matter how many deaths still stood in the way. He would take down every single one of the fifteen thousand men of the enemy army, if he had to. And Kenshin would help him, no matter how disgusted.

But then...

Kenshin gripped the hilt of his katana. Once the Shogun was driven off from Kyoto for good, Japan would be in Katsura's hands. Just a little more. Then that killing sword could go to rest for good. He looked out towards the hills where the enemy was gathering.

"Himura?"

"Good morning to you, Ishida-san" Kenshin said without turning around.

The older man went to stand at his side.

"Look at that. We killed so many of them yesterday and yet we are still outnumbered."

"I wonder," Kenshin muttered. "Why are so many of them still waiting there to die? Most of them aren't professional soldiers. By now they should know how this will end."

"Why, you ask?" Ishida had a dry laughter. "They were told that they're here to save Japan, I would guess."

A sudden wind chilled Kenshin from head to foot.

"Don't worry," Ishida said. "I discussed the situation with Katsura. We're thinking of ways to make that army scatter before we have to destroy it entirely. Their morals are already bad, if we make use of that... maybe we can spare some of those lives."

Kenshin looked at Ishida in astonishment.

"Katsura-san is?"

"Do you think you're the only one who's tired of this?"

Kenshin lowered his gaze. Ishida-san, all those years, had been Katsura's advisor in matters of assassinations. While Kenshin was the one to wield the blade, Ishida was the one who thought about whose head to cut next. Together, they shared the same sins, and the same guilt. But Katsura, the impassible and merciless leader of the Choshu rebels... That man looked like he never doubted, like he never regretted. Sometimes Kenshin envied him for it.

Ishida sighed.

"Even though Katsura is so eager to talk about renewing the land through chaos and destruction, he's starting to see the limits of this thinking. Tomorrow Japan will be ours to rebuild. Not just for ourselves, but also for those poor devils up there..."

He pointed at the shogunate army regrouping in the morning light.

"... so we better pay attention just how much we damage it."

Kenshin let those words sink in, lost in the contemplation of the battlefield. Maybe Katsura had learned the taste of regret, then.

"Ishida-san... do you ever wonder... if we could have... if we had somehow done things differently..."

He stopped himself. Ishida remained silent for a while, as if taking his time to decide of his answer.

"I do wonder. Every morning and every night. Just like you do. But the past cannot be changed. It's useless to ask what could have been, we will never know that. We have to keep going from where we are. Make the future into something that makes the past worth it."

"Worth it..."

Kenshin looked at the muddy river banks where thousands of corpses had not yet been buried.

"Such a heavy debt," he murmured.

Ishida patted him on the shoulder and silently walked away. Kenshin took a deep breath. The grip on his hilt was firm now.

One more day.

* * *

Only a couple of kilometers away from the man she had sworn to kill, Yoko, too, was watching the sun rise over the bloodied plain of Fushimi. Although it was only a day ago, it was hard to remember that this place had ever been another color than red.

The remaining of the Shogunate army was truly pitiful. Most of the "soldiers" were farmers gathered to be cannon fodder. Many of them had never seen a battlefield before. They were given rifles but had no idea how to use them, and there wasn't even enough ammunition for everyone. Apparently, the Bakufu's plan was to scare away the imperialists with the size of their army. That smart idea hadn't worked. The first day at the Kyoto bridges had been an awful massacre. Yoko had once believed that there was nothing she could be afraid of anymore, that she had seen death already and it could not get any worse. She had been wrong. So wrong…

All those lives uselessly wasted... She wanted to smash something so badly… to hit someone… She closed her lips tightly. In any case, this battle would be over soon. She had to find the assassin quickly.

Her sergeant called for her unit, and she stood to line up with her fellow soldiers, her daisho at her side. She had declined the useless rifles. They just got in the way. Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm. She turned around, startled.

"Okita-san?"

Okita didn't answer and dragged her away from her battalion, his grip so strong that all resistance was futile. When they were far enough not to be overheard, he threw her on the ground.

"What are you doing here!"

Yoko stood up, brushed the dust off her uniform, looked at him in the eyes and answered quietly:

"Can't you tell by the uniform? I enrolled as an Aizu troopman."

"Why?!"

"I'm looking for Himura Battousai of the Choshu han."

"You have lost reason," he whispered.

"What I have lost is my family," she replied coldly, "and what I want is revenge!"

"What you will get is an early grave! Do you have any idea who you're after? He's the worst of the imperialists! Even I am not sure I could get away alive from a duel with him! To him you're just a newborn child! You will die!"

"I don't care."

He became even paler and suddenly started to cough violently. Yoko waited silently until he regained his composure.

"There are people who do care," Okita said when he could breathe normally again. "Yoko, your father wouldn't have wanted you to throw your life away for his revenge. He would have wanted you to be safe and happy..."

"My father is dead and you didn't even know him!" she retorted coldly. "Don't you dare try this kind of emotional blackmail on me. What you mean is that _you_ want me to be a nice girl and wait at home. Well, I want you to be in a hospital bed right now, but does it matter to you?"

"It's not the same!"

"Why not? Because I'm a _girl_?"

"Because you're a fourteen years old _child_! Because you don't have a chance! What you're doing is suicide!"

"So what? Won't you lend me a hand like you did for Yamanami-san?"

He slapped her so hard that she stumbled on the ground.

"You don't understand," he hissed.

"And I never will. So don't bother explaining."

She stood up and once again, cleaned up her uniform with the back of her hand as if nothing much had happened. Okita sighed.

"Go home."

She looked up at him intently.

"If you come back with me."

"Stop acting like a child! I can't do that!"

"You have tuberculosis, for heaven's sake!" she retorted. "Look at yourself! You can't fight properly in this state. There are enough people here to feed the cannons, why do you have to be one of them?"

"I can't quietly stay home while the imperialists take over this country!"

"Well, neither can I when my father's assassin is running around unpunished! This man is out there, still killing people! I'm tired of washing off blood, I'm tired of attending funerals. I can't even protect the people I care for. I can't stand it anymore!"

"You're just a damn spoiled brat!" Okita yelled, exasperated. "You want your chosen ones to stay around you safely, is that it? Don't you care for what is happening to Japan? Our little lives aren't important right now. Your little revenge isn't important right now! This country is at a turn in its history! Can't you understand what we're fighting for? We're doing it so that little girls like you can sleep safely in their beds. I'm keeping this country from falling to pieces so that you may grow up in a world of peace, where you can find happiness! Me, Keisuke, your father, your brother. Even the assassin you're running after: he has a different ideal for the future of this country, but he's really just trying to _protect__it_. We are soldiers doing our duty to Japan. All this, all this is just about defending our people, saving our children. It's for your sake! What use are our sacrifices if you just go and get yourself killed?"

"Okita-san! We have to go!" called one of the soldiers at the back.

He looked at her with a desperate expression.

"Go home, Yoko. I beg of you. Get away from this chaos."

Then he left her for the battlefield. Her gaze followed him while he ran with his men to his position. Turning his back to her to hurry to his own death. She looked at the marching armies preparing to repeat the previous day's bloodbath.

"So, in the end, you choose death rather than me. And you say it's for my sake?" she whispered weakly.

The order to charge was belowed over the waiting men. The sight was so unbearable that she couldn't help hiding behind her hands like a child.

"STOP IT!" she yelled.

Her scream was lost in the cannons' thunder. She lowered her hands, watching in dismay the bodies falter one by one.

"You bunch of murderous idiots! How can you believe you're protecting anything with this slaughter? How do you dare speak about peace? How do you dare talk of happiness? Open your eyes! Look at what you're doing! What kind of happiness comes from mass murder? When you're all done _protecting_ this country, there will be nothing left but ashes! YOU'RE ALL INSANE!"

She fell on her knees, tears running down her cheeks

"I don't want to be saved if all I have left is a field of graves... Please, stop..."

But only the battlecries answered her.

* * *

Author's notes:

So I have been away so long... I got sidetracked. I do that a lot. But apparently there are still people who read this story. Lately Rurouken has started haunting me again, so here I am.

I will try to update regularly for a little while. Several chapters are already 99% written, so I should manage at least that. Thanks for reading.


	5. Duel at the bridges

**Duel at the bridges**

_28__th __of __January __1868_

_Toba-Fushimi, 2nd day  
_

"Himura! Over there!"

Kenshin followed his comrade's voice in the chaos of the battlefield. There were attackers coming from the side and the damn cannons where too heavy to reinforce there quickly enough. He recognized the blue and white haoris as he hurried to the front.

_Shinsengumi_.

Or its remnants, at least. Kenshin unsheathed his sword and entered the furious battle. As fast as a storm, his blade cut through the shogunate soldiers, who fell one after the other before him. The wind suddenly changed on the battleground. The Choshu soldiers, who had been stepping back an instant before, were organizing themselves at Battousai's side. Reinforcement would arrive soon. All they had to do was to hold that long. Even though the Shinsengumi still had the advantage of number for now, they already knew they were fighting a lost battle, every second bringing them nearer to death.

Kenshin sensed the attack before he could see it and could only evade by an inch, then blocked the instant follow up of Saitou's Gatotsu. He didn't pause to think and went for the throat but his blade was stopped just in time. He stepped back, quickly sheathing his katana for battoujutsu while Saitou was taking the stance of the high Gatotsu. Both men charged with a battlecry, the blades colliding with incredible force.

A cannon fused. A violent light blinded them, followed by the explosion. The commotion sent them both to the ground. Kenshin stood up, dizzily, looking for Saitou, but he was already gone. The Shinsengumi were retreating for now. They could take advantage of having forced some of the cannons to move by reinforcing the main front immediately. This attempt had cost many of them their life, though.

The air was heavy with the smell of blood and gunpowder. People were running out of shattered houses. Kenshin cursed. These bloody, bloody cannons!

This wasn't his war anymore.

* * *

Yoko waited for the next order to charge, her sword unsheathed. She felt strangely at peace now, as if she had crossed the border and was beyond rage and sadness.

She was terrified and cold and furious, but it didn't matter anymore. As if all this was happening to someone else, some other girl who was stepping in the dark mud of the Red Pond. She was walking a narrow edge of reason over the horrible confusion of her soul.

The order ran along the lines and the soldiers began to run forward, some of them holding their useless rifle, others resorting to their swords. Yoko ran with the others, oblivious of the danger and the heavy scent of blood. An explosion a few steps from her sent her to the ground. And even as she fell, she knew from the fainting ki that several of her fellow soldiers had just died. Holding tightly on her sword, she got up and ran again, as fast as she could, following blindly the voice of her captain who was calling his soldiers to him. Another explosion, she tripped but kept running, never looking back. Now cut out from the main army, their unit was growing smaller with every fire, but they would reach the cannons dead angle.

The Choshu men suddenly rushed on them. The young captain yelled at his soldiers to cut down the imperialists cowards hiding behind their western weapons. And in that instant, as Yoko saw the opportunity to finally get payback for this massacre, there was nothing she wanted more in the world than to obey him.

And finally, she saw him.

In a way, it was fascinating. It was the most deadly dance she had ever seen. He was so fast you could barely see him move. Every single of his blows was taking a life, accurately cutting down the enemy one by one, without any waste of time or effort. Even her captain was cut in two before he could fully raise his sword.

It was horrifying perfection.

_It__'__s __suicide._

He was so much faster than herself. She was clearly his inferior in strength as well. She would have to avoid a too direct collision of their blades. If she tried to block him bluntly he would just break her weapon. This was going to be tough… No matter how, she wouldn't keep up very long. A few minutes at most. So she would have to throw everything at the smallest chance of an opening. And decide it all in one strike.

She walked to him.

To destroy this man, she would strike with all her soul. Not only because his hand had personally wiped out her family and her life. But because of what he represented: this whole lot of fanatical, homicidal idealists who had decided that human beings were an acceptable loss for their shabby dreams. These people who felt free to sacrifice lives which weren't theirs to take away. These people who dared to talk of justice and happiness while spreading death and despair.

All bloody idiots of whatever side who had decided to fight this war.

* * *

Kenshin felt the danger and turned around. At first, he didn't realize what his instinct had warned him against. And there, out of the chaos of dust and fire, he saw that boy walking to him. A young Aizu soldier, his dark hair held in a topknot, his hand holding a katana that looked too big for him. There was something strange in the light that his eyes held. Something haunted.

One of the Choshu men raised his sword to slay him. He fell down before finishing his move, his throat cut neatly.

Kenshin looked at the blood dripping from the boy's katana. So much for letting your guard down because of his age. He stepped forward and the others retreated slightly, leaving the job to him. The young soldier looked up at him.

"I have been looking for you, Himura Battousai-san of the Choshu han."

You could tell that he was trying to sound threatening, but it was hard to achieve this with such a frail, high pitched voice. It made him seem even younger.

So carefully polite, although trembling with rage and fear. Full of righteous anger. Resolute to fight like a grown up.

_I __must __have __looked __like __that __once. __A __century __ago._

"Who are you?" Kenshin asked in a low voice. "What do you want with me?"

"My name is Seichiro Yoko. And I'm here to stop you."

_Seichiro. __Yoko. _He remembered instantly. Although there were so many of them, he remembered all his murders. Not a boy, then. A girl. The little girl with the broken sword. So, this was about revenge. It had happened before. It would happen again. It was in the nature of blood to call for more blood.

"Aren't you too young to die?" Kenshin asked.

And although his tone was so quiet, it held more threat than any shout. Although his eyes carried no grudge or hate, their amber shade was certain death. Yoko tightened her grip on her katana.

"There is no age to die, Himura-san..."

The teenager raised her sword with both hands in an horizontal stance.

"...as there is no age to kill."

"Indeed," Kenshin muttered.

His fierce eyes focused on the blade stained with his comrade's blood. Not this time. She could not be spared this time. He buried the wince of regret in his heart and sheathed his sword, taking the stance for Battoujutsu.

That girl's ki was so chaotic… Had it spoken, it would have been ten voices screaming at each other. Although he could feel it clearly, he didn't know what to make of it. Such a weak, broken spirit… and the eyes of a wolf. Which was it?

She stayed still for a bit, staring fixedly at him. Then she charged with a battle cry. Kenshin's instincts took over. He unraveled his sword from its sheath at god-like speed but she jumped back slightly before he moved and the sword merely scratched her, drawing a red line on her shoulder. Her sword instantly moved to parry the second attack coming from Kenshin's steel scabbard.

_Not __bad._

He made a step backwards, then went for a thrust which was dodged as well. She tried to strike upwards at his shoulder, but he parried it easily and counter-attacked at the chest. Once again, she managed to end out of his reach.

_This __brat __is __playing __around __with _me.

Both youth danced on the edge of death in the swift sound of blades cutting through thin air. She had skill, Kenshin could feel it in each of her moves. But her frail body had neither the speed nor the power to hold him out. She was, though. It was like fighting a mosquito. She only dodged his attacks by an inch and completely failed to hit him, but she was, somehow, always a step ahead of him.

It was unnerving.

* * *

_Don__'__t __think._

She couldn't see his sword come. All she could see were these eyes focused on her like two amber fires. The only thing that kept her alive was instinct. She moved before she knew why, following the inner rhythm of the dance, avoiding death at every step.

_Don__'__t __stop __to __think._

He jumped in the air, then fell back towards her, his sword pointed at the ground in a thrust. She twisted her waist to avoid it, half a second away from being crushed. He moved instantly in an upward strike that she barely managed to block; the strength of the blow made her lose her balance and she was thrown to the ground. She fell down on her back and expected to get the final blow. But nothing came as she jumped back on her feet. He was patiently waiting for her to get up again, as calm and unreachable as death itself.

Yoko was out of breath. Himura Battousai wasn't. It was a performance in itself for her to be still alive, but she couldn't keep that up much longer and there wasn't even the shadow of an opening to strike. A part of Yoko could only wonder at this man's swordsmanship. It was a degree of perfection she had never contemplated before.

His unreadable face stared down at her, patiently waiting for her to catch her breath and come at him again. His ki was so strong that she couldn't help but shiver. She hadn't the slightest chance.

No opening anywhere. She tightened her grip on her sword.

"If you throw away your sword now, I will let you go", said the low voice, probably mistaking her blank expression for fear.

"I won't leave before I kill you!" she shouted, on that tone of blunt and stupid provocation you can only have at fourteen years old.

"Then you will be the one to die."

This was no provocation. It was a simple statement. A death sentence by the best assassin in Japan.

For an instant, her mind went blank, as if shutting off the world around her. She couldn't hear the thunders of the battlefield anymore. The only sound left was her own heart beating loudly in her chest. Her breathing deepened. He was right. That was the one thing that couldn't be avoided.

So be it, then.

She took a new stance, holding her blade at her right side with both hands.

She attacked and the swords slayed through the air as both of them dodged, deviated and counter-attacked. She made sure to let him lead the rhythm of the battle, let him believe he could read all of her moves. And then…

* * *

"I won't leave before I kill you!"

Under other circumstances, Kenshin might have smiled. She had courage; he had to give her that. There was nothing in those eyes but the single-minded determination to defeat him. Good eyes… but not enough strength.

"Then you will be the one to die."

This one's death saddened him. But it was unavoidable now. She attacked him once again, and something was slightly different in the way she was fighting now. Rather easier to predict. Finally getting tired? Or something else? Suddenly, he saw a slight unbalance in her footing and his fighter's mind automatically deduced how to take advantage of it.

He sheathed his sword for Battoujutsu, then unraveled his blade, expecting her to try to dodge again and knowing she wouldn't make it this time.

He met her eyes.

Instead of evading the blow, she leaped forward. He felt rather than saw the movement of her left hand. He spun just in time to avoid her second sword, hardly deviating the course of his katana in the process, slaying her through the chest.

She fell on her knees. Kenshin watched her in bewilderment. Her left hand was still on the hilt of her wakizashi, the other one clinging to the terrible wound on her chest. She had planned this. She had coldly decided to let herself be slain and carried it out without hesitation, for the chance of using the small opening created by his attack. She'd tried to take him with her in death.

_Blunt, __foolish __and __beautiful._

_And __what __use __is __it __to __you __now?_

She looked up at him, the blood loss already making her unnaturally pale. Then she folded up, gently collapsing on the ground. And all he could think was: one more. It was as if each of their souls were resting on his heart, making it heavier with every passing day.

* * *

Author's note: So this is the end of the Bakumatsu flashbacks (saddly. I got rather carried away with the flashbacks. In the end I had to cut half of it, because let's be honest, it wasn't actually useful to the story anymore. One day I will have to write a 100% Bakumatsu fic so I won't get this frustrated.)

Next chapter we're going back to the present and the actual storyline. Thank you for reading me.


	6. The consequences of murder

**The ****consequences ****of ****murder**

Kaoru had brought tea earlier, but Kenshin hadn't taken any. He was still closing his hands around the cup, as if trying to catch its warmth, although it had long gone cold. He hated to look back on the past. It was like a poison forever there, in his heart, waiting to suffocate him. For years he'd simply pretended this man called Battousai had been someone else. Sometimes he could even nearly believe it. But that manslayer kept running after him.

"I thought I had killed her back then," he ended. "But it seems she survived the Boshin war, after all."

Kaoru was staring in the distance and Kenshin wondered what she was thinking. It was easy for someone as young as her to dismiss Kenshin's past by saying "it was war", but to meet face to face someone whose life he had crushed, that was a different story. He wondered what Kaoru would have done if she had been in Yoko's place. Would she have run after him too? Would she have faced him with this reckless rage and thrown her life away?

He felt Kaoru's hand closing on his wrist. He looked up at her, startled by the move but did not meet her eyes. She rested her chin on his chest. Feeling awkward, he wondered for a few seconds what to do with himself, and finally let his arm rest on her shoulder. Not yet an embrace, maybe the idea of an embrace… Her warm presence melted away the ice in his chest.

No, his Kaoru wouldn't have thrown her life away like that. Not for something like revenge. With all she had lost, she had always been someone walking towards the future without hesitation. That thought comforted him.

"So, what will you do?" Kaoru asked.

"She wants a duel. I can't refuse."

She looked up at him, a trace of worry in her deep blue eyes.

"But then, what?"

He sighed, staring up at the stars.

"I'm not sure. I have to bring her back. But I don't know if fighting her will help me to do that."

"Bring her back?"

"From the shadows…" he answered, for want of better words.

"What do you mean?"

Kenshin hesitated. He wasn't sure how to explain. Then he remembered what one of his comrades had told him, long ago, just before he had left the Ishin Shishi at Toba-Fushimi. Ishida-san had been good at words. Maybe he could use his.

"Back then, in Kyoto, we were fighting for a new era. But we thought that for the new era to come, it was necessary to create a time of shadows. We had to throw Japan into madness and disorder, so that something new could be born from the chaos. Ishida-san said that Japan had to pay a price for its future. He said there would be those who would never walk out of the shadows. He called them the 'lost generation'."

Kaoru frowned, thoughtful.

"He didn't mean only the people who died, did he?"

"No. He meant the children. The children of war."

For an instant, Kenshin fell silent. He remembered suddenly Tomoe frowning at him because he had played a pretend swordsfight with the Otsu kids. Now he fully knew why she had been afraid for them. Tomoe had understood the consequences of murder long before Kenshin.

He tried to steer away from those memories. He wasn't ready to face Otsu yet. Kaoru's hand was still on his arm and he felt thankful that she was there, close and strong, guarding him from his ghosts.

"Children learn how to live their lives by following the footsteps of the adults in front of them," he went on. "The adults in the Bakumatsu... weren't very nice people. 'Murder is normal.' 'Death is your companion.' 'Live by the sword and die by the sword.' 'Kenjutsu is the art of killing.' Those are the truths we taught them. Until they became adults, war was everything they learned and everything they remembered. Ishida-san said that for them, war would be the only truth until they died. That they would never be able to walk out of the shadows we created, even if they survived them. The lost generation."

"So Yoko-san is one of this 'lost generation', is she?"

He nodded. Yoko, and so many others. The young boy who had barely survived the fall of the Sekihoutai, and then kept fighting because he had no clue what else to do with his life. His friend whose hands kept making bombs even when he'd renounced using them, because destruction practically ran in his blood. One boy with white hair who had nothing but pure hatred left in his eyes...

"What about you, Kenshin?"

The question caught him by surprise. For a moment, he considered what she suggested in silence. The idea irritated him much more than it ought to.

"I... am a different case."

Kaoru looked like she really wanted to ask _'How __so?'_ but thought better of it. Instead, she rested once again her head on Kenshin's shoulder. His tensed muscles relaxed a little. He wondered for the thousandth time what he had ever done to deserve something that precious. Kaoru couldn't find for him the answer he was looking for. No one could. But even if he failed, even if he couldn't get forgiveness, she would accept him all the same.

"Kenshin?"

"Yes?"

"Come back."

He smiled.

"Yes. I will."

As long as she would wait for him, he had to win. No matter who was in the way and no matter what their reason was to ask for his life. He had to get back home so that Kaoru wouldn't be sad.

* * *

It was nearly dawn when Sano woke up with the weird feeling that something was missing. His hand reached for it in the empty futon before his sleepy mind could quite realize what it was. Suddenly, he sat upright.

"Yoko?"

She was halfway through the opened door. It was still night and he could barely see her small figure standing in the moonlight. She stopped at her name but didn't look back.

"Hey… Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving."

"What? In the middle of the night? Why?"

"I'm sorry," she replied softly.

She sounded so serious that it frightened him.

"But… you're… coming back, aren't you?"

She turned to face him, but he couldn't discern her face in the darkness.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

And she disappeared into the night. Sano jumped on his feet but when he reached the door, there was no trace of her in the dark street.

* * *

Kenshin arrived at the eastern bridge at dawn, as promised. The first sun rays were timidly showing up in the distance, throwing red flickers on the river. Yoko was already there, sitting on a stone by the road, her back to him. She didn't seem to have noticed him yet. She was smoking a cigarette. Her fingers were shaking. He wondered what could make her shiver in such a warm day. Staying away from her not to reveal his presence, he tried to read her ki.

Merely feeling ki was hard enough, but reading it was an art in itself. It was a complex mixture of emotions flaring in the distance, reducing themselves in occasions, then combining and growing again. The true face of any living being. Most people tried to hide it. They buried their soul under all sorts of fake feelings, for good and bad reasons: to fool, to be polite, to protect themselves. But Kenshin could see them as they were. That was the reason he always knew where they would strike. Of course, some were very good at hiding themselves. Saito Hajime was extremely hard to predict. Seta Soujirou had been a strange experience, an unfathomable empty shell, burying his own soul so deep that even himself had lost the key…

Yoko, however, wasn't hiding. Her ki was opened for him to watch, nearly as foolishly obvious as Sano's fighting spirit. But what he felt was bewildering. It was like trying to understand a picture shattered in small pieces. What he was reading in her soul were like random words which didn't form any clear sentence.

It didn't make any sense.

She threw her cigarette away.

"It's useless."

She had spoken quietly, as if talking to herself, but Kenshin knew hat she had spotted him.

"You can't read me. You can't predict me. No one can. Even I am never sure what I'm going to do next."

She stood up, turned to face him and drew her katana, her steady gaze staring at his very soul, just as he had done himself an instant before. She was reading his ki, feeling his doubts and determination, his strength and flaws. She was staring through the carefully protected face of the wanderer, straight at these dark places where the murderous rage of the Battousai waited. She was looking for the killer who was still in him.

As if to answer to that gaze searching Battousai, he unsheathed his reversed blade. There was a trace of surprise in her eyes as she recognized it for what it was. She looked at the katana intently, as if trying to solve a riddle.

"Why put the edge on the wrong side?" she finally asked.

"Because I have sworn never to kill again."

"Never to kill again… Is that so?" she answered slowly. "But if you wanted to live peacefully, you could have just thrown your sword away. It would have been easier. This katana, although the edge is on the inside, it still could cut. If you wanted it to, it still could kill. So…"

Her eyes went back from the sword to Kenshin. There was a strange smile on her face.

"Whatever your talks about peace mean, you have decided to remain on the edge. You can't let go of the sword, can you?"

He tightened his grip on the hilt, holding firmly to his weapon, the materialization of his ideals.

"No. I can't. I keep fighting. I just chose another path to do what I have always done."

"What you have always done?"

"To protect the people of this country."

In an instant, her expression changed to pure hate, her anger overflowing her ki.

"To _protect_, Himura-san? These sweet words of yours, I will cut them off!"

She attacked and Kenshin, startled by her brutal reaction, merely blocked her blow without trying to retaliate. What in the words he had just said could make her that angry?

"To protect?!" she repeated. "Swords are weapons. Swordsman is just a pretty word for killer. The only way to protect someone with a sword is to keep it sheathed! Anything else is a lie at best, a pitiful excuse at worst."

She tried to slice him but he stepped back and dodged.

"Let me ask you something, Himura Battousai-san. Do you actually know why my father died?"

The question left him powerless. He merely stood there in silence, waiting for the next blow, concentrating on her blade rather than her voice.

"Are you thinking _'T__o __protect __the __people __of __this __country__'_?" she asked. "I bet you are. But do you know how exactly my father's death was supposed to protect anyone? Do you know how this one man endangered Japan? Did they ever tell you?"

"I didn't ask," he replied, his throat dry.

He never knew exactly why the victims were on his list. He didn't need to, and he didn't want to. Any attempts of his superior to make him more involved in the Choshu's strategies had been firmly declined. It was hard enough to hold the blade. He didn't want any part in the actual decision that led to his victims' death. He had been a fourteen years old who had wanted to save the world but had let the adults handle the difficult thinking.

"My father hated bullies," Yoko went on. "He hated disorder. He didn't like the Aizu people and their Shinsengumi any more than the Choshu rebels, he disapproved of their methods. He wanted to find a compromise with the Choshu and reach a peaceful solution. He was trying to persuade the Shogun of the recklessness of his politic. He felt that some change was needed in the Edo government, but he believed that it could come without spreading blood or overthrowing the Tokugawa. He wanted to prevent a war!"

Preventing a war... Kenshin briefly closed his eyes.

_For __the __new __era __to __come, __we __must __be __thrown __into __disorder._

_You __are __the __guardian __of __disorder._

He already knew where this was going and he didn't particularly like it.

_You __are __the __guardian __of __disorder._

"So you do know, don't you?" Yoko said. "The violent methods of the Aizu clan and the Shinsengumi indirectly helped the rebels. It made the moderated Satsuma domain restless, and they decided to negotiate an alliance with the Choshu. And it threw Kyoto into the chaos that would eventually allow them to overthrow the Bakufu. For the extremists who did not want to hear the word "compromise", a man who stood between both sides was worse than a man trying to destroy them. This is why my father died. Now please tell me again how everything you did was to protect the people of Japan."

Kenshin lowered his head. It was hard to answer that. Although he hadn't known the exact reason for Seichiro's death, it didn't surprise him. The betrayal of the Sekihoutai, the cannons of Toba-Fushimi, the assassination of Shishio Makoto by his own allies... the Bakumatsu hadn't been nice and it hadn't been fair. Although Katsura had disagreed to the mad plan of burning Kyoto down, he had used pretty much any mean necessary to achieve his goal. Kenshin knew that when he agreed to follow him on that road and wield the sword of a murderer.

"I've heard it before, this _'__I __will __protect' _reasoning," Yoko added in a low voice. "Nice people, just like you, men who would smile to women and play with children, men who would pick up a sword and spread carnage, then tell: this is my duty; this is to protect the people of this country. That wicked thinking, I will not stand it anymore. I don't care what kind of weapon you're waving. If you're still fighting with that twisted logic, you will kill again sooner or later anyway. I will end it now. I will kill you."

"I made mistakes," he simply answered.

His voice was so quiet it was hardly audible at all.

"I have to pay for them," he went on. "I know that. But I won't let you do that. That life of mine, I will keep using it to fight and to protect till the very end. There is no other way for me to atone for my crimes."

"Atone?" She said in a mocking tone. "Is that your excuse to keep waiving a sword after all you have done? How does it work? How many do you have to save until you've made up for the hundreds you murdered? Is it a life for a life? Or is there another rate? Three lives for one? Do you keep counts?"

She was smiling but her eyes were merciless. The words struck him like arrows. She went on, slowly, as if she had wanted to write the words directly on his heart:

"No matter how hard you try, no matter what you do or for how long, you can never repay for what you have done. You can never give back what you have taken. No matter how many people you save from now on, the dead will stay in their graves. A broken life stays broken."

For an instant, they were covered by deep silence, as their phantoms quietly watched over them.

"I know."

It hurt so much because it was so true. These were the words that the meanest voices of his mind were whispering at night, when he doubted himself and the meaning of his life, when he wondered whether what he did made any difference at all, whether it made any sense.

"I know," he answered in a faraway tone. "The dead stay dead. There is nothing I can do about it now. However, even if it is not enough, I believe that what I can protect here and now with those hands is important. I can't create a better past. But I can make a better future."

"It must be nice," she answered with disinterest, "to believe in this kind of dream. I don't believe in anything. I don't care about duty and I'm not even on a mission of justice for the sake of the dead. It's just that I can't sleep at night when I think that you're still alive. So I'm going to cut your throat, and see if the world looks better afterward. I rather think it should."

"And that's where you are so sadly mistaken," Sano's voice said. "But it doesn't matter, because you will lose."

The both of them turned to Sano who was walking towards them, his hands in his pockets. He had never been someone who could hide his emotions well and right now, one look at his eyes was enough to know just how angry he was.

"The missy explained it to me," he said. "Wouldn't have wanted to be late."

"This has nothing to do with you," Yoko said sharply.

"It has something to do with me when someone uses me to get to my friend," Sano snapped at her.

"Sano," Kenshin intervened, "I don't really think that…"

"It doesn't matter now," Yoko interrupted. "You can stay if you want, Sano. But don't interfere."

"I won't. But don't think you and I are done, lady. We have something of our own to settle."

With those words, Sano sat down on a log. As long as Kenshin had accepted, there wasn't much he could do to prevent this duel anyway. But he could guess, too, how his friend was feeling right now. Kenshin's guilt was a deep wound in his soul and Yoko was twisting a knife right into it. Some part of him probably thought that this woman had a right to ask for his life. Also, she hadn't kidnapped anyone, she wasn't trying to start a rebellion, she wasn't threatening anyone else than the wanderer. This time, Kenshin had no one to protect but himself. With his personality, it was putting him at a disadvantage.

So Sano had come, to make sure he knew whose side he was on, he wouldn't forget the people waiting for him. He glanced at Kenshin. He looked calm. But maybe not as determined as he should. His gaze went to Yoko. The street fighter hadn't quite sorted out his feelings about the girl. He fought back a sigh.

In a way, he understood her. Hadn't Sano himself stood before Kenshin in the same manner, with the same kind of foolish rage? Hadn't he wanted to bring him down from the bottom of his heart? That girl and him, they were alike in many ways… But even though he understood, there wasn't any question about whose side he would be on. And also, he was pissed off that she'd left him so easily, without even saying goodbye, without explaining anything.

Sano observed her position. She was casually holding her sword with one hand. He couldn't recognize any classical stance; it nearly looked as if she wasn't serious. He had no idea how good she really was. One bar brawl wasn't nearly enough to assess how she'd do against a swordsman like Kenshin. Something worried him, though. She'd felt the policemen's ki before he could hear them. That wasn't a widely spread talent…

* * *

Author's note: I hope you're still enjoying this! I've cut off a lot of unnecessary blabla from the last two chapters, but somehow I still worry that it's not enough. I have a tendency to keep rambling. But next chapter, I promise, there'll be some action.


	7. Truth

**Truth**

Kenshin tried to focus and failed. In the past, he had managed to stand up and fight while cut down and exhausted, his will had carried him through pain and loss. Yet now he was unable to forget the anxiety in his stomach. He couldn't let something like this distract him. She wasn't a harmless little child with an umbrella anymore. She wasn't a foolish teenager who hadn't thought things through. 'Swordsman is just a pretty word for killer,' she had said with quiet certainty, as someone who knew those words held true first and formost for themselve. Someone who, having tasted blood, purposefully decided to draw a killing sword. Still, he couldn't banish the bitter taste of shame and guilt in his mouth. He was the one who taught her this truth. He had made her pick up that sword. He hadn't realized, at that time, that there was more than one way to destroy a life. He had learned that too late. In the snow of Otsu.

_Don__'__t __think __about __that __now!_

She chose that instant to move, as if she knew... Kenshin, off-rhythm, jumped and evaded the blow, but she followed instantly with a second attack. He barely blocked it and stepped back.

_Focus!_

Her blade kept chasing him and Kenshin kept dodging and blocking, not making a single move to retaliate. He couldn't possibly end this without landing a blow, but his body refused to strike, defending, retreating, remembering with burning ache that he didn't want to hurt that person anymore. Her haunted eyes staring straight at him... He avoided her thrust by a hair's breadth, stepped back again. Behind him was the river, he couldn't keep doing this much longer. Why did his sword feel so heavy? She was faster than the last time he'd fought her. But worse than that, her chaotic ki sent his sixth sense completely astray. He could find no clear pattern in her moves. Since he failed to predict her, all he could do was rely on his superior speed to avoid her, but if he kept losing his balance like this… Sano's voice snapped at him.

"Kenshin! What the hell are you doing?"

He saw it too late, as she made a downward strike to the right while he was awaiting her on the left. All he could do was spin to avoid a fatal blow, but he couldn't prevent the blade from slaying his shoulder. He fell on one knee and parried in time the second attack. Their blades locked against each other. Yoko kept pushing, trying to break his stance. Kenshin braced himself to push back despite his injured muscles. The burning pain spread from his shoulder in his whole body, and his mind slowly cleared up. It was like the ache was taking everything else away, old fighting reflexes overcoming the guilt. He had to win. He had promised!

He gathered his strength and in one smooth move, pushed her away and stood up. She stumbled but managed to regain her footing. Kenshin mirrored her formless stance, holding his sword casually with one hand.

Here and now, there was only the duel. He had to end it first. The rest could be sorted out later.

Breathing hard, he focused on the situation. He couldn't predict her. Fine. It was a little bothersome, but it had happened before_. _He could handle it. All he had to do was to take the initiative and land a blow.

Finally bracing himself, he slayed at her, and it was Yoko's turn to evade his blade. Bit by bit, stroke by stroke, Kenshin regained his lost ground, forcing her into retreat. She never used her katana to parry, he noted; she dodged, jumped, escaped him always, never raising her blade for defense, only for attack. That she could defend herself from him in this manner for that long was somewhat irritating. Was she trying to mock him? But her eyes were blank, devoid of any hint of a joke or a game. He had a flicker of memory, a sword he had shattered to pieces together with the man holding it. And suddenly, he understood. Yoko had seen it and remembered it. She knew him. She feared him. Consciously or not, she had built her entire style of fighting around that fear. Kenshin paused, feeling nauseous. Just how bad could one scare someone without even intending to? Had the gods any more horrendous games to play with him?

His ki flared with anger. Anger with himself, with fate, with the person who had lost herself that deeply. As she slayed at him, he jumped in the air and fell back on her, ready for Ryu Tsui Sen. But she shifted stances in an instant, just before he landed, and struck him on the back. Because he had no foot on earth yet, he could not dodge properly. He landed on his feet despite the pain. A minor cut once again, nothing truly dangerous, but she'd hit him for the second time. That was beyond annoyance. How had he allowed that? Sooner or later, the blood loss was going to weaken him. He couldn't indulge in many more missteps.

"You killed my brother with this move," she reminded him casually. "You thought I would forget it?"

He greeted his teeth. He'd been a fool. Ryu Tsui Sen, Ryu Shou Sen, every step he had made in front of Yoko had engraved itself on her mind. And combined with her unusual ability to read him... He had to be more careful. But that disturbing ki that didn't make sense, because of it, his instinct was flawed, he was making the wrong decisions. It felt like he was lost in fog, like back then…

Blinded by rage and physical wounds, numbed by the freezing snow, when he…

_'Even __if __I __can__'__t __use __my __senses __correctly, __all __I __really __have __to __do __is __concentrate __on__ hitting __you.'_

He chased the vision from his mind. No time to think about that!

No need to think about anything.

So she could predict him? Fine. He could live with that. He sheathed his blade for Battoujutsu, breathing deeply. Even if she could predict this one, it wouldn't help her. The sheer speed of the blade was unavoidable. Evading it was possible, but not while stepping in to land a blow.

She watched his stance and Kenshin saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She had, after all, an old scar on her chest to remind her of the trajectory of that particular move.

_Now __try __and __get __in __my __range __if __you __dare__…_

* * *

Sano fidgeted on his log. He didn't like this at all. Kenshin wasn't someone who would normally get easily hurt, but right now he wasn't his normal self. Sano wished he could stand up and smack him on the head until that red-haired idiot found his brain back. Yoko had managed to unbalance him. Kenshin now finally seemed to have gotten serious, but he was far from calm. It was something strange and frightening to see this first class swordsman lose his footing…

He had taken the stance for Battoujutsu, though, and Yoko had paused just outside of his range. As skilled as she was, she was still slower than Kenshin. There was no way she could land a blow against the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu drawing techniques. What would she come up with?

Yoko smiled. And then she just charged.

Sano could hardly see it happening at all. She ran at Kenshin, foolishly unguarded, then suddenly switched her katana to her left hand; and as he started to unsheathe his sword, she raised her right wrist to block it.

_With __her __wrist __alone?_

Then Sano realized. Of course, she had daggers in her sleeves! And when it came to parrying, a short blade was much more efficient and sturdy than a long one. While Yoko blocked Kenshin's sword with the dagger, the katana in her left hand stroke upwards at full strength and Kenshin fell to the ground.

He didn't stand up again.

Sano jumped on his feet. How bad had been the hit? This couldn't be! This man wasn't that easy to kill!

Yoko walked towards the unmoving body, panting. But she had to stop midway. The ex-fighter-for-hire was standing between her and Kenshin, his fists clenched. She lowered her katana and frowned.

"This isn't your fight, Sano. Don't get in the way."

"I know that. But do you honestly think I'm going to stand by and watch him die without doing anything?"

"You can't fight me bare-handed."

He crossed his arms and merely stood there, as unmoving and stubborn as a mountain.

"If you're so sure about that, then what are you waiting for?"

She had a cold smile.

"You have a good friend," she said, looking past Sano. "Now hurry and stand up. Or are you going to let him fight in your place?"

Sano, perplex, looked behind him. Kenshin was getting back on his feet, helping himself with his sword. He wasn't in particularly good shape, but obviously he had once again avoided the worst of the blow.

"Get out of the way, Sano." The wanderer's voice sounded strange. It was low and hoarse.

"Kenshin…"

"It's alright. I can read her now."

Kenshin's sharp eyes were staring straight at his opponent with such intensity it seemed he couldn't see anything else anymore. Sano couldn't help but shiver. He slowly stepped back to the side, unable to put a name on his worries. Kenshin had somehow shifted from his hesitant state to something else, equally unpleasant. It couldn't...

"I couldn't see where she was," Kenshin muttered. "On the left, on the right? And do you know why? Do you know where she is?"

"Kenshin…" Sano whispered, unsure what he should do.

"She's on the edge. Just like me."

"I don't understand what you…"

"Musouken. It's Musouken, 'the sword of the empty mind'. Fighting without thinking. Except her mind isn't empty. It's broken and scattered and it doesn't make sense. No focus. No discipline. You're just tiptoeing at the edge of insanity and holding to your basic fighting instinct. Something like that will not defeat me."

"Finally," Yoko answered softly. "I've been waiting."

She swung her blade to clean it from the blood, and shifted to an attacking stance.

"Shall we dance together again, Himura-san?"

Kenshin breathed deeply.

Deeply and slowly.

Finally, he could understand what he was fighting against. It was like some sort of devilish wind. She didn't have any safe footing, she just went from a fall to another, like someone jumping from rock to rock down a cliff. She had no balance at all, in her stance or in her ki, which was why all her moves felt so wrong. The only reason she didn't tumble was because she kept running, running on the edge of sanity and madness, running from an unsteady stance to another. What a reckless style…

Such an unstable form would crumble at the smallest error.

_Don__'__t __think._

He had to run after her, follow the track of her moves in the always moving pattern of her ki. She was fighting purely on instinct, so his instinct would answer to her moves. All he had to do was trust his sixth sense, even though it appeared to betray him. Abandon himself completely to it. He could do it. He had to let himself fall in that inner emptiness. This place of darkness where you sink inside of yourself.

_Don__'__t __think __about __anything._

Ten years ago, it had been obvious. Ten years ago, he knew how to close his eyes and dance blindly on his own burning rage. Ten years ago, the darkness was easy to find. Memories of purple blood on white snow, of beloved names muttered by dying victims, of wounded men finished off in front of their screaming daughters. Until everything died out in his soul. When the only reality left to him was the weight of the sword in his hand, then…

_Dance._

There was nothing but the duel, and nothing could end it but death.

With the strange relief he could only find in the sword, he danced with her the brutal dance of murder, taking on her insane rhythm. Forward, thrust, backwards, to the side, block, counter attack, backwards, spin, slay… As if some choreograph had planned it in advance so that the blades would swing an inch from the skin without ever touching it. Step after step, he was catching up, pushing her at her limits.

He blocked a blow from the side and as he pushed Yoko back, her feet finally lost their tempo. A half-a-second mistake, hardly an opening at all, but his sword entered it with frightening accuracy and hit her at the shoulder; she lost the grip on her sword and fell on her back. He slayed to finish her for good, but she jumped back on her knees and parried with one of her daggers. She threw her second knife at his throat; Kenshin had to break his stance to evade it. She used that opening to jump out of his range and grab her katana; she raised the blade just in time to block Kenshin's sword again. Finally, he thought grimly, she had been forced to use her sword to defend. As he stepped back, he noted that she had shifted her blade to her left hand again. It was no trick this time. Her right shoulder was hurting. Now that she had lost the flow of the duel, he would not let her have it back. Time to finish this.

As she charged him once more, he ducked to strike at her throat with a Ryu Shou Sen. She saw it come, but while evading him, she once more lost her balance. He moved instantly to take advantage of it, attacking with a thrust at the throat. She stepped away but the blade scratched her left shoulder. Blood suddenly tainted the torn kimono.

_Blood?_

He froze. Brutally sobered by the sight of what he had nearly done, his shivering hand stopped in the middle of his move.

He had attacked with a thrust. It was the best move at the time and fighting completely on instinct, he had used it without even thinking. How had it happened? How had he lost track that much? He _never_ used this kind of attack anymore. With a thrust, it didn't matter on which side was the blade. Sakabatou or not, it was a killing move.

He stayed there, cold sweat running down his spin, with the feeling that the ground was disappearing under his feet. He was slipping away. Why? Why now? He couldn't let that happen!

"KENSHIN!" Sano yelled.

"Step back!" Yoko ordered, stopping the street fighter who was rising again. "I told you this wasn't your fight!"

She turned back to Kenshin, holding her sword defensively in front of her. No more casual stance. She was hurt and exhausted and most of all, her dance had lost its rhythm. Even so, he could see in her eyes that she would not concede the match yet.

"You know, what oaths you swore or whether you break them or not is of no concern to me. But I won't allow you to spare me once more. If you want to live, you will have to kill me. It's your choice."

The strange choice of words snapped Kenshin out of the fog in his mind. What had she said just now? _'__I __won__'__t __allow __you __to __spare __me __once __more.__' _Yes, Kenshin had spared her once, in that dark alley. Even at that time, the darkest hours of Hitokiri Battousai, when the light of life had seemed so far from him it was unreachable, he had thought "she's a witness" and still never considered killing her. Because she was only one small girl, and if he had done many disputable things as a manslayer, killing off children certainly wasn't one of them. Was she angry about it? That he had let her live?

Long ago, as a child, Kenshin had been saved by Hiko Seijuro. So he had learned that strong people could go out of their way to protect weaker ones, and it had become his truth. Then he had met another boy, Seta Soujirou, who had been left alone to save himself. This one had learned that strong men were beasts feeding on the weak, and that he had to become a beast himself in order to live, this also had become his truth. Yoko had neither been saved, nor could she save herself. She had been spared. She, too, had learned a truth from that night, as she had nearly lost her life.

She had learned about being powerless. And that truth was now keeping her in the dark. She hadn't come here to kill, although she might herself believe it to be so. Truly, she had come here to die.

Kenshin's heartbeat steadied. Now he knew how to bring her back. He had to give her another truth. He had to show her how hopeless the road she walked was, and help her find another one. Every drop of blood dripping to his feet would be worth it if he could achieve that.

"No one will die today," he told her with quiet confidence.

Yoko had a disenchanted smile.

"Let's find out how you keep that promise."

Kenshin didn't answer, focused on his stance. You had to believe. That was essential. Strength was useless if you didn't believe. Yoko didn't believe in anything, not even in herself. She'd managed to unsettle him, but it was over now.

_You __will __kill __me __or __die? __Let__'__s __see __how _you _keep __that __promise, __little __girl. __I__'__m __much __stronger __than __I __was __at __Toba-Fushimi, __you __know. __My __heart __is __stronger. __What __about __yours?_

Kenshin prepared himself for Kuzu Ryu Sen, one of the last techniques his master had taught him. It was an attack you couldn't parry or dodge. No matter how good you were at predicting moves, it didn't let you anywhere to run to. There was only one move that could defeat it, and it did not allow for doubt or resignation.

_Let__'__s __see __how __far __you __can __go __without __faith._

He charged. The exchange was so fast that even Sano could hardly see it. Yoko, hit nine times by Kenshin's sword, was thrown to the ground. Kenshin lowered his sword, staring thoughtfully at his left wrist. A small red line was dripping blood. This woman… she _had_ managed to land a blow. It was only a small cut, but it was dangerous. A little more, and his artery could have been cut. She had used the same strategy than at Toba-Fushimi. She'd decided to step into his attack and take the blow, trying to inflict a fatal wound.

"I must admit it, you are skilled," Kenshin said.

She tried to move but gave up. She had difficulty to breath because of the injury to her throat and she probably had one or two broken ribs on top of that.

"Still… Not fast enough…" she whispered.

"Your speed doesn't match mine, that's true, but that's not the reason you lost," Kenshin stated. "As long as you fight the way you do, you can never beat me."

"What… do you mean?"

"I mean that you fight striving for death rather than life."

"You make me laugh," she hissed. "What do you mean, striving for life? The aim of a duel is to destroy your enemy. Anything else… is secondary."

"No! Staying alive is top priority in a battle. If you die, you've lost, it's as simple as that. If you fight all your duels having already thrown your life away, you just step in battle as if you had already lost. Because you gave up on yourself, you were not able to defeat this attack."

"Empty talk," she retorted angrily. "What decides a battle isn't will or determination, it's strength. If having the determination to live was enough, my brother would still be here. My father would have stood up and killed you. The will to live doesn't save anyone. In the end, there is only death. You're the one who taught me that, fifteen years ago."

Kenshin's hand tightened on the hilt of his reversed-blade. She still hadn't seen it, the way out of the darkness. It would take more than a duel. But swordsmanship was his language, and how else could he show her how mistaken she was? He sheathed his sword, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, and walked away.

"I'll go call a doctor," he sighed.

"Where are you going?"

He turned back and watched with slight amazement Yoko standing up again with the help of her sword.

"You can't keep fighting," he protested. "You can barely stand."

"You don't understand," she replied, both of her hands clenched on the katana's hilt. "I've been chasing you for fifteen years. Ever since that night, I never stopped running after you. All my life… watching your back…. You won't get rid of me unless you kill me."

Kenshin had a faint, nearly imperceptible smile.

"You're just as stubborn as he is."

Sano walked to Yoko and pulled gently the sword from her fingers.

"In case you're wondering," he told her, "he means me. Com on now. It's over."

As if removing the katana had cut all the strings that were holding her upright, she collapsed in his arms.

"Obstinate woman," Sano sighed. "What the hell am I supposed to do with you?"

* * *

Author's note: Don't worry, this sounds like a sort of bitter end, but obviously it's not over. As we all know, the most stubborn of the lot is in fact Kenshin, not Sano ^^

This chapter was tough on me. Fighting scenes are so very hard to write. I hope you enjoyed it. Many thanks to my readers, especially those who take the time to leave a word. I'm glad to share this story with you.


	8. Mikadzuki

**Mikadzuki**

"Dango! Who wants my dango!"

"Three here."

"That's three sen, sir."

Sano absentmindedly searched his pockets and threw a coin in the hands of the seller, who handed him the dango stick with a smile.

Anyone who knew the ex-fighter for hire could tell this wasn't a good day. He hadn't even _tried_ to get the food for free. And now he was swallowing his dangos without any real enthusiasm.

He couldn't get Yoko out of his mind. He'd brought her to Megumi, of course. The doctor had treated her and Kenshin with that stiffed expression she always had when thinking "you bunch of idiots getting hurt stupidly, do you think I don't have anything better to do than sewing you up? And I'm doing this for free, too!" She hadn't said it aloud because it was Kenshin; she wouldn't have been that generous with Sano.

Anyway, two days later, Yoko had disappeared from the clinic and not showed up again. The gods knew what she was up to. Sano had dimly hoped that she would come to him and, well, talk. That he'd get a chance to tell her how stubborn and stupid she was, and how maybe she _could_ have mentioned to him the fact that she was going to have a duel to death with his best friend, instead of just walking away in the middle of the night.

Sano sighed, biting on his dango stick. He was worried about Kenshin, too… How was it going to change anything, to look depressed and guilty and give everyone that blank look? It worried Kaoru. Kaoru was unbearable when she was worried. Honestly, the only one in the dojo who seemed to have some sense at the moment was Yahiko. Which was annoying.

Talking of annoying…

"Are you going to stalk me all day, or do you plan on showing up?" he said aloud. "'Cause if you want a fight, I'm exactly in the right mood."

"Nothing less from the _famous_ Zanza," said a friendly voice. "Nice to meet you."

Sano turned back. Somehow, he hadn't expected an elderly man with a warm smile and a little too much belly. He'd more thought along the lines of a big guy with muscles and any amount of sharp things. He frowned.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?"

"Am I correct to assume that you have recently made the acquaintance of a young person who calls herself Sannan?"

"What the hell do you want with Yoko?"

"Ah, so you have," said the man cheerfully. "I'm relieved. It would be unfortunate if there was error on the person. In that case, I have a request, Sagara-san."

Sano frowned. This guy was definitely too polite for his taste.

"Yeah?"

"I would like you to accompany me. For an indefinite amount of time."

"What for? Where to?"

"Two very good questions, but I'm afraid they will remain unanswered," replied the man, still wearing that annoying smile of his.

Sano shrugged.

"Bugger off."

He turned back and walked away. He found the other end of the alley was filled with about ten guys carrying swords.

"I _insist_, Sagara-san."

Who the hell where those guys? Well, it didn't really matter. The one thing Sano was craving right now was someone to hit, so he wasn't going to complain about anyone volunteering. He threw away his dango stick, raised his fists and ran at them. It turned out that big swords in small alleys aren't that easy to wave around, while Sano's punches where as painful as always and soon enough, he threw the last unconscious opponent against a wall with a sigh of regret. Gangsters weren't what they used to be. How frustrating.

He turned back to the man behind him, his hands in his pockets.

"My mood hardly got any better, old guy. If you don't wanna get hurt, I would start running right now."

The man did not seem to be moved by Sano's warning. He still had that insufferable smile stuck on his face and the fighter started to feel nervous.

"Just as I was told. This has been quite entertaining. I do thank you for your advice, Sagara-san, but I assure you it is unnecessary."

Sano suddenly felt a burning pain to his left shoulder. A dart… he pulled it out and threw it away. The wound itself was nothing to worry about, but…

Feeling dizzy…

Poison? Shit.

"You asshole!" he shouted, running at the man. But another poisoned dart hit him in the back and he fell on his knees, then lost consciousness completely.

"My, my," said the elderly man. "He was stronger than I thought. I hope the dose will not kill him?"

The poisoner jumped down from the roof.

"Well, actually, a second dose _should_ kill him. But, on the other hand, the first dose _should_ have been able to send a horse to sleep, and he was still running around. So he'll probably survive it."

"I see. In that case, get those idiots other there to stand up and tie him up. We need to move quickly."

* * *

At the Kamiya dojo, dinner had happened without Sano coming around for his share. Kaoru, however, wasn't particularly worried about that. On the whole range of topics available to get worried at, Sanosuke was ranking pretty low. One particular red-head, on the other hand...

"You're doing it again," she stated.

"Oro?"

Kenshin looked up from the dishes he was washing. A pair of blue eyes where frowning at him.

"Do you actually know that you've been washing the same bowl for the past ten minutes? Are you trying to drown it, or what?"

Kenshin looked at his hands. Kaoru was right. That bowl was clean enough. He put it down to dry with the others and smiled at her as innocently as he could.

"Ah... sorry, Kaoru-dono, I guess I was lost in my thoughts."

"Yeah, that's what I mean," she answered sharply. "I've had enough of this. Stop telling your worries to the dishes and come over here. I made tea."

Himura Kenshin, murderer of hundreds of men and terror of the Bakumatsu, was utterly unable to resist Kaoru when she was in that kind of mood. He followed her obediently to the engawa. Two warm cups of tea were indeed waiting for them. She told him to sit and made herself comfortable at his side.

Kenshin had an inner sigh. She wanted to talk. He wasn't all that good with talking. He looked down at his tea and found no inspiration there. After a full minute of stubborn silence, Kaoru gave up.

"Listen," she said. "I know that whole thing upset you. But no matter what happened in the past, you can't help anyone against their own will."

"I know."

"Lots of people died in the war. I'm an orphan. You're an orphan. Yahiko's an orphan. Not everyone who loses their family sets off to spend the next fifteen years ruining their own life. At some point you have to accept that you're not the only one responsible for the way Yoko-san is now. And that means you can't change it on your own."

"You're right," he said, still looking down. "But..."

"No but! When Sanosuke fought you for the same kind of stupid reasons, you told him he was being an idiot, and to go and make himself useful instead."

"I didn't quite say it like th..."

"That's not the point!" Kaoru interrupted.

She sighed, looking at the weary face of her wanderer. Kenshin just couldn't help himself. He wanted to fix things. He wasn't ready to accept the idea that Yoko might be one of those things he couldn't fix. So, sleepless night after sleepless night, he kept thinking about it over and over again, and the lack of any useful plan just made him drown in guilt.

And as if that wasn't enough, he was trying to hide all that from her.

"Yoko-san's family isn't going to walk out of the grave..." she said sadly.

This was so similar to what Yoko had said herself that Kenshin couldn't help but cringe.

"... so that's why, all you can do is look at the present and the future."

She sipped at her tea while Kenshin kept staring at his blankly. This wasn't going anywhere, she thought with a sigh. If this kept going on like this, she was going to hit him with a bokken out of sheer frustration. Best to change tactics.

"I bought a jug of sake yesterday. Why don't you bring it to this rooster head? He missed dinner, so I'm worried he might have fallen down a well or something. I don't see what else could keep him away from your youkan."

Kenshin winced. He hadn't talked properly with Sano since his duel with Yoko. He knew his friend was upset, but somehow he couldn't find any words worth saying. Kaoru punched him on the shoulder.

"Go and find him."

If Sano couldn't beat some sense in her beloved wanderer, then she didn't know who would.

* * *

It was nearly nighttime when Kenshin went to find Sano, trying to sort out his own thoughts on the way. He'd hardly done anything else in the past few days, and the exercise had proven frustratingly futile. Whether the jug of sake he was carrying in his hand would help? He'd got drunk before. Alcohol never solved his problems, it just made him feel numb. But maybe he should be glad and settle for numb, just for tonight. A voice stirred him from those reflections.

"Himura? It's you, isn't it?"

Kenshin looked back to a young man who was hurrying to catch up. He knew his face. It was one of those people who were always somewhere in Sano's vicinity, going with him to gambling halls and tea houses, and occasionally trying to get their money back. What was his name? Yoshie, wasn't it?

"Are you going to Sano's? I'm on my way there too."

"Yes," Kenshin answered. He raised the jug. "I was thinking we could have a drink."

"I see. I had half a mind to go look for him at the Kamiya dojo, but I guess he's really home then. That's good."

As they walked side by side, Kenshin noted that Yoshie's step was uneven. Nervous. Behind his back, his hands were folding and unfolding, restless. His ki felt tensed and worried. Not the bearing of a man who was on his way to an enjoyable evening with friends. And Sano had missed dinner. Somewhere at the back of Kenshin's mind, an alarm bell started ringing.

"Is anything the matter, Yoshie-san?"

"Huh," the other muttered. "You could say that. I'm kinda worried. I met that strange woman today, you know her? The one Sano started hanging with?"

The alarm bell was louder now.

"Do you mean Yoko-dono?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Ran into her at the tea-house and then I told her about this guy who asked about her and then she practically leaped at me..."

"Asked about her?" Kenshin echoed.

"Yeah, well, just a guy asking around, he was looking for his sister, see? And he'd heard rumors about that mess at the Yokohama and he was like, 'a short girl with lots of sharp things about her person sending down twenty guys like nothing, that sounds like Yoko-nee-san for sure', and so I told him I don't know much but he might try Sano because they'd, well, left together last time someone saw them, know what I mean?"

Kenshin froze in his steps.

"... That was yesterday. And then today I saw that girl having a drink and I thought, hey, great coincidence. So I told her all about her brother looking for her and then she _pinned_ me to the wall, just like that! And she was like, _'You __told __him __about __Sano? __You __told __him __where __he __lives?'_ Honest, I thought she was gonna kill me, but then she dropped me on the ground and ran away. _And_ she didn't pay her bill. The owner put it on my tab because he said we 'looked like buddies'. Now that's a good match for that dickhead, I tell you. My family annoys me too, that's no reason to..."

"Yoko-dono's only brother died fifteen years ago," Kenshin said in faraway voice.

"Huh," Yoshie uttered. "You sure of that?"

"I assure you there is no room for doubt," he answered grimly.

"But then... who the hell was that guy... Hey!"

Kenshin was already running forward. Yoshie cursed and ran after him. He wasn't nearly fast enough to catch up, but just when he was going to give up, Kenshin froze, then ran back to him, grabbed him and stepped back in the nearest alley.

"Hey!" Yoshie protested. "Now what was that about?"

"Trouble, Yoshie-san." Kenshin told him quietly. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but could you stay silent for a while?"

While every word was strictly polite, there was an edge to the swordsman's voice that made Yoshie's heart stand still for a second. The young man looked anxiously at the street they had just left. It was empty, that part of town wasn't busy at this hour. But Kenshin was waiting for something.

Then he saw them coming down the street. There were six of them: the first one seemed to be showing the way. The rest of them were escorting a young woman carrying a sword at her side: the troublesome Yoko. They had wooden sticks in their hands and this way to walk like they owned the streets and were daring anyone to come and argue about said property. Yoshie, who always wandered at the edges of the underwold, knew in his guts that they were Yakuza, and what they were carrying really were concealed swords.

But he knew every Yakuza clan in Tokyo and those guys were new. He took an instinctive step back. New guys on the streets were never good news.

* * *

Fear, Kenshin thought. Yoko's ki was screaming in fear. Whoever those people were, she wanted to be very far away from them – yet her left hand was resting on the hilt of her katana, not making a move to unsheathe it. Whatever was scaring Yoko into submission, it wasn't their swords, he was sure of that. That person was stubborn and suicidal enough to fight him – twice – there was no way she was too frightened to resist a couple of common gangsters.

There was something else.

Kenshin gently pushed Yoshie further away from the street, gesturing him to stay there. In one silent jump, he landed on the nearest roof. He looked down at Yoko, hoping she would notice his presence, and her escort wouldn't. And indeed, very briefly, she raised her head and their eyes met. It was over just as quickly and as far as Kenshin could tell, none of her guards had noticed the exchange. But no matter how short that one glance had been, he had not missed the expression in her eyes. He had seen her look that way before, long, long ago on the night they had first met. Pleading eyes.

That settled it.

He let himself fall at Yoshie's side. The young man was fidgeting, obviously in the middle of an inner struggle, as he watched the strange company walk past them. Kenshin gestured him once more to stay put. They both waited until the sound of their footsteps had entirely disappeared.

"You didn't help her!" Yoshie whispered reproachfully.

"I can't," Kenshin replied. "Not yet."

His eyes had a flicker of barely controlled anger that made the young gambler feel like his blood had just frozen in his veins.

"This looks bad," Yoshie muttered to himself. "We've got to go and find Sano..."

"I agree, but that is going to be a little more difficult than expected," Kenshin said bitterly.

"What do you mean?"

The wanderer walked down the road to the place where Yoko had just passed. He had seen a brief flicker of light escape her hands there. An old medal had fallen in the dirt, something that she had left for him to find. He picked it up and brushed it with his fingers, revealing three kanji engraved on the metal.

Mikadzuki, "the new moon".

Kenshin's eyes narrowed as he examined the word. There was something there, a memory, something unpleasant at the back of his mind screaming to be remembered. Mikadzuki. A golden medal carried around the neck, a seemingly harmless word on an innocent piece of jewelry, but heavy with the scent of fear. One glance at that little thing, and people would wince and cower, bow low and get out of the way. One of many objects of distaste he had crossed on his long journey around Japan.

"Yakuza," he remembered. "Yakuza carry this thing. It's the symbol of the Takeiya clan. I met them once. Where was it?"

"Osaka," Yoshie told him. "The Takeiya are from Osaka. But they disbanded two years ago."

Disbanded? Kenshin frowned. He remembered the Takeiya. In the Osaka underworld, they used to be at the top of the food chain. They were the clan who raised taxes from the other Yakuza. At that time, the rumor on the streets was that their boss, the Oyabun, had friends in high places, even among the police. And his personal guards were the most feared gangsters of the city. What could have made them scatter? And how was all this connected to Yoko?

"Please tell me that story, Yoshie-san."

"Shouldn't we go to Sano first?"

"He isn't there,"Kenshin said. "But you're right; I need to check his place. Let's go. You will tell me that story on the way."

"What do you mean, he isn't there?"

Kenshin, slowly running out of patience, took him by the arm to make him follow, quickly making his way towards Sano's home.

"They were coming from the row houses. You told me Yoko-dono panicked when she heard someone was looking for her and knew about Sano. She obviously ran to find him, but instead those people found her. Now she is following them, not fighting back although she could get rid of them in a few minutes if she wanted to. It can only mean one thing..."

Kenshin expression darkened as he remembered Yoko's eyes looking at him, all hate and rage washed away by utter desperation. This woman begging him – _him!_ – to help. He knew that fear in her ki, the terror that would make you do anything, anything at all, to prevent the disaster from happening. He remembered it all too well. It was a feeling that smelt of blood and white plum.

"...Sano is gone. He's a hostage, because who else could they use as a hostage against a wanderer with no family? But I will find him. She asked me to and I _will_ find him."

He briefly looked down the street, where Yoko had just disappeared with her guards. All doubts and weariness had been washed away from his mind by a wave of absolute determination. This was simple, this was something he could fix. He would find Sano, and then he would find Yoko.

"Hang on," he whispered. "I promise not to be long."

* * *

Author's note: I couldn't resist it. After so many frustrating times Watsuki has used young women as bait, hostages and whatnot for the stronger men, I simply couldn't resist making Sano the damsel in distress ^^


	9. Beginning the chase

Kenshin walked on, carefully examining the tracks on the road. Thankfully, there was a full moon that night, more than enough light for Kenshin's eyes. After all, darkness had been his only battlefield for a long time. Was it because of his duel with Yoko a few days ago, or because of the pale light of the moon? He remembered it more accurately than usual, the silence of the Kyoto nights. He was worried, both for his friend and for his enemy; but while that feeling was burning cold in him, it was safely stored away in his heart to leave his mind clear and efficient.

Step after step, he walked back the way the Yakuza and Yoko had been coming from, searching for any relevant sign. Yoshie followed him like a shadow, fidgeting with a wooden stick he'd grabbed somewhere like he wasn't sure whether he would have the nerve to use it or not. His constant wavering between fear and anger was nerve-racking for Kenshin. Hesitation and poor fighting skills were a bad combination, he would have to send him home soon or he was likely to get himself hurt. But for now, he needed to hear what Yoshie had to say.

"It was all very strange," the young man explained while walking. "One day they are the kings of Osaka, the day after they're completely wiped out. Someone high up suddenly decided to get rid of them, I guess. But no one expected it, those Yakuza were like buddies with the local police, see? They bribed pretty much everyone. It was like they were untouchable. Then one morning, cops are sent over from Tokyo and start kicking asses. They closed the gambling dens, patrolled around the brothels, and went straight to the opium storehouses like they knew all along they were there. In the blink of an eye all those guys who used to walk the street like they owned it were lined up in shackles. And it wasn't just them. All those cops who kept pocketing the bribes were arrested and sent to prison right along with them. The chief of the Osaka police and the city administrator were found stabbed in their office, too. Officially they killed themselves. Out of shame or something. But you ask me, those people didn't know what shame feels like, or they wouldn't have done what they did. That was murder, that was."

Kenshin paused, thoughtful.

"Murder?"

"Yep. Maybe the Yakuza killed them for revenge or something, or maybe someone in the government decided to avoid a scandal, who knows? It doesn't make a good impression when important politicians work hand in hand with gangsters after all. So yeah, in summary, there was a huge mess and in the end nothing much was left of the Takeiya. They say some of the big fish did escape, though. Their Oyabun and a couple of guys of his inner circle were apparently never caught, but all the same they lost Osaka. No one has heard of them after that…"

Kenshin halted. Here. There had been a fight in that street, not long ago. At least ten people – one had been smashed against that wall, there another had fallen down, head first. Two smashed against each other falling almost synchronously... From the random cuts in the walls and the ground, he could tell they were armed with swords but hadn't managed to use them very efficiently. There was no doubt. Not many people in Tokyo would take on that many swordsmen barehanded and beat them down with such brutal efficiency. That was Sano's handiwork. And then...

He crouched to examine the ground more closely. Just a glitter of a reflected moon ray, but... he picked it up with his hands. It was a dart, one of those nasty things that could be fired by a small, hidden bow. There was some blood on it, but only very little on the ground, so it had hit, but not a vital point. Perhaps it wasn't supposed to hit a vital point. If those people wanted to use Sano as a hostage, then they probably needed him alive. So this dart must have been used to drug him.

He slid it in his sleeve. This kind of weapon was unusual for common gangsters. Yakuza made a business of scaring people out of their money, not of killing them. The one who had sent that dart wasn't like that. He was a creature of the shadows, one who stayed hidden and struck from behind. In other words, an assassin.

Sano wasn't a man easy to take down, but the Takeiya apparently knew that, and had prepared all this very carefully...

Kenshin straightened up. Now, he needed to have a look at Sano's house. But before that...

"Yoshie-san?"

His silent companion nearly jumped at his name.

"Yes? You want to know anything else?"

"I'd like you to ask people around. You know everyone in this street. Try to find out what they saw."

Yoshie nodded and disappeared, looking relieved to have something useful to do that didn't involve following Kenshin.

_I frightened him_, the wanderer thought grimly.

He would have to apologize later, but for now he had other worries. He was only two streets away from the row houses where Sano lived. It was only a moment before Kenshin reached the familiar place where he had planned to empty his sake jug and his heart only a moment ago. It was entirely silent.

He slid the shoji open. He knew Yoko had done the same earlier that day. He'd seen her tracks all the way there: a woman's step, small but deep because she was running, irregular like someone who tripped in their panic. And then, she would have opened the door, like he did, even though she already knew that Sano's unmistakable ki wasn't there, like he did. She would have done that to make sure whether he was missing or dead.

Just missing.

Even though he had already deduced as much, Kenshin couldn't help letting out a relieved sigh. They hadn't killed him to scare her, then. Much more useful to use him to control her.

Sano's place was small; there was just enough place for a futon and a few jugs that were probably empty. There was no one in there, but a dagger had been thrust in one of the walls. Kenshin examined it. No recent blood on the blade. It had been left here for Yoko, as a way to remind her of what she could have found here instead - a blade in a man's throat, rather than just a wall. He pulled it free and slid it in his obi. There was nothing more to find here. Now he needed to talk to one more person, someone whose presence he felt somewhere on the background of this whole story.

_Cops sent over from Tokyo… Murder…_

Who would one send to track down and get rid of corrupted officials with whatever means necessary? What kind of policeman would clean up inside the police itself? Of course he couldn't be sure, but his instinct told him this wolf had to be involved. If he had information… Kenshin would get it from him.

He closed the shoji behind him, his eyes burning in the shadows.

* * *

Paperwork, Saito thought. It was always there, lurking around. It was already this way in the Shinsengumi. They would attract you with exciting things like spying, cutting down bastards, saving Japan and getting nearly killed in the process, but in the end there was always, somewhere, paperwork waiting around the corner. And three copies please. Sometimes he dreamed about setting fire to the whole lot of it.

Why wasn't anyone trying to overthrow the government? Where had all those rebellious samurai gone? You would think there would be at least one of them who needed his urgent attention somewhere, wouldn't you? But no. He had spies all over the country, watching out, and all their reports were completely boring. And he had to make an even more boring one, every month, just to tell the higher ups "All is well, you can sleep as much as you want", only with much more words and for each prefecture, and – as always – in three copies. It was unbearable. It was all so _peaceful_!

His hand suddenly came to a halt. He knew that ki - knew it so well he had to consciously fight back the urge to grab for his sword, instead slowly putting his pen back on the desk. He picked up a cigarette and lit it with a slight grin.

At last, some distraction.

"Battousai," he said to the darkness. "Coming for a little evening chat?"

A small medal landed on his desk with a metallic sound. Saito stared at it, in the same way he would stare at a sleeping snake.

"Mikadzuki. The symbol of the Takeiya clan," he muttered.

"So you know them," said the low voice from its dark corner.

"I cut that head once already. But some heads do tend to grow back…"

Himura Kenshin stepped into the light.

"As I thought, you were involved in the events in Osaka."

"You wouldn't come here with this, though, if it was only about something that happened two years ago," Saito replied.

_And your lips wouldn't be so tight_, he added for himself. _Someone must be in a rather deadly danger, for you to be so upset. Interesting._

"They have kidnapped Sano."

Saito raised an eyebrow. That idiotic ex-fighter-for-hire? The Takeiya clan had come back from the ashes to target him?

"What for?"

"He isn't their actual target. I believe they are using him as a hostage against someone else, a woman called Sannan Yoko."

This time, Saito nearly choked on his cigarette.

"Yoko?"

"You know her?" Kenshin asked, surprised.

"I somehow always happen to be around when this damn little brat gets in trouble," the ex-Shinsengumi said, frowning. "Must be some kind of curse. How the hell did she get involved with that moron friend of yours? No, don't tell me. She tried to kill you. _Again_. She did, didn't she?"

"Well…"

"Obviously. There's never been a single trace of common sense in that stubborn head of hers. So the Takeiya are on her, are they? I knew that would happen, sooner or later."

Actually, and to be perfectly honest with himself, he'd _hoped_ that would happen. To his annoyance, a few of the people he really, really wanted to throw into a deep, solid prison were still running around. He'd hoped the survivors of the Takeiya would be stupid enough to try and get revenge from Yoko. That kid was rather similar to a bomb with a malfunctioning detonator, in that people who messed too much with her had a tendency to end up missing various parts of their body. Of course, at some point, that would mean more paperwork, but paperwork with bits of Yakuza in it did have a different taste. He couldn't repress a smirk.

"Why?" asked Kenshin, interrupting the course of his thoughts. "What did she do to anger them that much?"

Saito sighed.

"Follow me. I will show you."

* * *

The first thought that occurred to Sano as he opened his eyes was that he was utterly sick. A bucket was handed to him; he thankfully took it and threw up his whole stomach.

When he could breathe again, someone gave him a towel and a bowl of water. He cleaned up and fell back on his futon, exhausted. He'd never felt that weak in his life. What was going on? He had some dim memories of a bastard too polite to be honest, and then he'd beaten up some blokes, and then...

Oh, yes… a poisoned dart, wasn't it? So he wasn't dead. That was good news. Or was it? His stomach, at least, was of the opinion that it would rather not be alive than in that sorry state. The feeling must have showed on Sano's face, because a voice told him:

"The after effects of the antidote are a bit unpleasing. Sorry. Please bear with it, eventually it will get you back on your feet. You should drink some tea. It should help."

Sano turned his head to see the owner of the voice. It was a teenager, maybe around fourteen. And there was a cup of tea next to him. Sano tried to sit to take it and nearly collapsed; the youth came to his help and supported his back with some cushions to maintain him in a half sitting position.

"You need to be careful. It will take a little while before the effects wear off."

"Who the hell are you?"

"My name's Shigure."

"Doesn't answer my damn question. What's this place? What d'you want? Who fuckin' _shot_ at me?"

Shigure seemed to hesitate a bit, then he showed Sano his wrist, pushing back his sleeve. There was a kanji tattooed on his arm.

"Mikadzuki…" Sano read. "So?"

"That's the symbol used by our clan, the Takeiya. You are in one of our hideouts."

Sano took the cup of tea. His hand was shivering. Damn it… even thinking was such an effort… He drank a little, trying to straighten up his thoughts.

"Takeiya. I heard that name. Yakuza, are you?"

"Yes, sir."

"That guy too? That old one with the creepy smile?"

"That would be Sanada-san, sir. The saiko komon."

Saiko komon? In other words, a chief advisor, not a thug - a guy who would normally deal with paper and numbers and suchlike. Sano tried to think of a reason why that man could have an interest in him, and failed.

"I'm pretty sure I don't owe any money to you guys," he said, though prudently, because he wasn't, in fact, absolutely certain about that one. After all, he had debts to half of Tokyo, so keeping track was a little tricky. But he was nearly sure he'd remember if he owed money to Yakuza.

Once again, the youth hesitated. Finally, he answered:

"You're a hostage."

Hostage? Him? That didn't make much sense, if Sano was any judge.

"What for?"

"It's… her they want. Yoko-nee-san, sir. They found out that you... well, they think she'll do as she's told so long as you're here."

Sano closed his eyes. What. The. Hell? Yoko? Was that some sort of joke? He'd known the girl for a total of one and a half day. Then she'd dumped him and tried to kill his best friend. And now, what? He was supposed to play the part of the poor weak little thing who might get hurt by freaking lowlife gangsters – who he could beat up with his eyes shut, by the way, if only he could remember how to stand?

Some Yakuza were going to regret ever being born...

Grinding his teeth, he gathered whatever was left of his strength and tried to get on his feet. The room started to spin again and the teacup, which he had completely forgotten about, fell hopelessly from his hands. Shigure forced him back on the futon.

"You can't. Not Yet. You're too weak. You have to rest first."

Sano stared at him. Not yet? What did he mean? And he had talked of antidote too.

"You… you're a Yakuza… aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"On whose side are you?"

Shigure hesitated.

"I… er… it's... complicated. I sort of have a debt to Yoko-nee-san, so... "

Sano took a deep breath. If only the ground could stop dancing around the place. Maybe all of this would start making sense. Yoko-nee-san? Sister? He'd said that twice already. Sano nearly shook his head then thought better of it.

"Why do you call her sister?" he asked. "You can't be her brother, so…"

Pieces of the puzzle slowly started to click themselves into place and Sano looked at the end result, bewildered.

"Wait... that's only what you people call each other, isn't it?" he snapped. "Big sister here, brother there… That's why you call her "nee-san". Is Yoko part of your clan?"

Shigure shook his head vehemently.

"No. I mean... not really? Hum... Like I said, it's sort of complicated."

Sano sighed. His brain didn't seem at all ready for complicated. It was still trying to figure out where top and bottom where. But he was a freaking _hostage_ and may he be hanged by the ankles if he was going to let anyone rescue _him_.

"Since I can't even lift a damn cup of tea," he told the teen, "you might as well explain everything while I'm busy throwing up."

* * *

Paperwork. There were whole mountains of the stuff, it was a wonder how anyone could still find anything in this archive room. But that was what people like Sousuke were for. That young man would probably be useless anywhere else on earth, but in this room, he was the one who knew where everything was.

"The Takeiya folder. Osaka."

"Yes, sir."

Strangely, Saito liked Sousuke. Although the man was a weakling and a bookworm, he did his job fast and well, never asked any questions and never attempted to discuss the weather. And he worked late hours, which was very handy. Less than a minute later, he was bringing back a heavy pile of paper. Saito took the whole lot and carried it to a nearby table.

"That's the information I used in the Osaka operation two years ago," he told Kenshin. "Who they bribed. Who their contacts were in the opium market. How much they earned, stole, or "taxed". Of course, the only way to get all of this information was from inside the clan itself."

Kenshin looked at the folder. The page it was opened on was covered in a small and precise handwriting, giving details about the selling of a building involving some corrupted officials and death threats to the owner.

"So you had a spy in the clan?"

"No, I didn't. We were all rather busy with the Satsuma rebellion at the time, if you recall. We had no men to spare on gangsters, not even irritating ones. The one who brought me all this was Yoko."

Kenshin's eyes widened in surprise. He looked at the file, then back at Saito.

"She infiltrated a Yakuza clan?"

"Apparently."

"_Why?_"

"Who knows why this little brat does anything?" Saito shrugged. "Probably because she was bored."

"Bored?" Kenshin repeated weakly. _Is this your idea of a hobby?_ he wanted to ask, but decided not to.

"However, that idiot got discovered while still in the middle of her little investigation. She had to decimate half of the Oyabun's personal guard to get out of his manor alive. So of course, when I arrived to get them, they knew exactly who they had to thank for it and they had an escape route ready. Too many of them got away. It was only a matter of time before they reorganized and decided to pay a little visit to say thank you. That's what happens when amateurs try to play the spy in their free time."

He rummaged through the papers and handed a police report to Kenshin. It was the detailed and dispassionate description of a crime scene which involved a dozen bodies spread out in the corridors and gardens of the clan's estates, not all of them in one piece: the result of Yoko's escape from the hands of the Takeiya. As he read on, Kenshin felt a metallic taste in his mouth. From the information in there, his mind could reconstruct the scene without much effort. Every swing, every footstep, every deadly strike. The opened wounds and crushed bones, rivers of blood spreading between the flowers and soaking the soil wet. All the screams and faint whimpers, and the silence afterwards. And then, the emptiness slowly sinking in, with a dreadful, quiet certainty.

Killing was so, so easy. There were always reasons, sometimes even good-looking ones with plenty of righteousness to them. But the trouble was, people could only be evil as long as they were alive. Once they were dead, they were just corpses. Shattered possibilities. It was hard to hate a corpse - close to impossible, in Kenshin's experience. And so, the only one left to hate was, in the end, yourself.

Yoko knew all that, as anyone with blood on their hands must know - yet she had killed again. And as always, the blood shed so generously now called for more, always more. The blade you thrust into someone's throat could wait for you for years, if necessary, and then, one day, reappear at the neck of the one you loved, demanding to kill yet _again_.

And it never stopped. Not as long as you went on with the endless cycles of destruction.

"Well," Saito went on, interrupting the course of his thoughts. "Neither that stupid girl nor that moron fighter are my concern, but as it happens, I would rather enjoy a word with those Yakuza gentlemen myself. I will find them."

There was a gleam in the wolf's eyes that Kenshin remembered well. _This is my city_, it told, _and you have broken _my_ law_.

Even now, after all those years, that look sent a shiver down his spine.

"Send me word when you do," he told Saito. Then, with a brief nod, he left.


End file.
